


Chiaroscuro

by sweetfire



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Ice Skating, Internalized Homophobia, Isak is an amazing boyfriend, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Painter Even, Shy Isak, Slow Burn, True Love, copious art and historical references, frolicking in the fields, in every universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 88,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetfire/pseuds/sweetfire
Summary: Isak blinked. The man was glowing almost, he would have sworn. Light hair smooth as cornsilk, eyes that stopped his breath with their particular shade of blue; the best blue he’d ever seen, Isak decided in an instant; smooth skin stretched over high cheekbones and a smile, wide and genuine and gleaming. He tried to pull his eyes away, to continue their path naturally, but they were stuck on Even’s face, like loose clothes on sharp briars.He was beautiful.//Isak and Even falling in love in Renaissance-era Copenhagen, or, the one where Even is a painter hired to do a portrait of Isak, the only son of a wealthy family, because they love each other in every universe no matter the odds against them.Updates every Tuesday :)
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 154
Kudos: 314





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so beyond excited to finally get to start sharing this!! This fic has kind of become my baby. I've never attempted something this long before, or with this much of a plot to tackle, and it's been really fun to write. 
> 
> There are several things I want to say about this, so please excuse the rambling - I've never written in a different time frame before, and research like that is not my forte (my degree was in neuroscience, I can't remember the last time I took a history class or anything close to that), so I tried to make it as accurate as possible but I'm sure there will be some anachronisms and things that aren't realistic.
> 
> I decided to have this set in Copenhagen because I wanted the feel of a bit of a bigger city invigorated by the (very) late renaissance, and from what I could tell it didn't really quite make it to Norway. The time frame isn't exact in my mind, so I've taken some liberties with historical events but it's somewhere from the early- to mid- 1600s. 
> 
> Also, I approached this as basically optimistically-realistic, meaning that there will be problems associated with two boys being together in this time period, but they won't experience any direct external homophobia, and they will end up together and be happy, I promise. 
> 
> Okay, now that all that's out of the way, I very much hope you enjoy the first chapter!!
> 
> \- Natalie

There were many things Isak missed about home—his friends, the snowcapped mountains, the diaphanous ribbons of the northern lights painting the sky—but he had to admit there was something to be said for the invigorating hustle and bustle of Copenhagen, which was a step beyond anything he’d experienced in Norway. Three years of living in the city was enough for Isak to be adjusted to the melee of activity surrounding him in the heart of town on his route home from the University, but it still impressed him every time. Today was no different as he wove through the market-lined streets, dodging carts of produce and loose chickens and unappealing puddles. He clutched his shoulder bag of books close to his hip protectively, alert to the fact that his clothing gave him away as someone worth stealing from, and that his young and innocent face often pinned him as a prime target.

It took him about 45 minutes to walk from the University to his family’s estate on the outskirts of the city, and Isak usually spent that time mentally rehashing his studies from the day, getting in some extra practice with his subjects. The buildings thinned out and the noises of the city center faded as he walked south, and he felt his shoulders losing some of their tension. As stimulating as Copenhagen was, he had a tendency to get a bit overwhelmed and on edge in crowded, busy spaces. It wasn’t exactly bucolic countryside, the area where Copenhagen’s wealthy had their homes, but there was green and chirping birds and dappled sunlight enough to feel like a breath of fresh air.

As he walked up the path towards the familiar façade of the Valtersan home, he didn’t know what to expect to find inside. His father was often away from the house working; he needed to be at the waterfront of the city to oversee his shipbuilding business. His mother was unpredictable. With her illness, he could either step into a silent, seemingly empty house or be greeted at the door by the sound of screeching and smashing vases. Luckily, it was more often the former.

This time, when the heavy wooden front door creaked open, he was met with an almost eerie quiet. He footsteps echoed loudly as he walked in, looking around for signs of life. The sunlight wasn’t strong in the overcast mid-afternoon, leaving the rooms half-darkened, but light enough that no candles were lit.

“Hello?” he called down the hall, hearing his voice echoed back to him followed by a sudden burst of noise that made him jump.

His mother floated in from the sitting room, followed, somewhat surprisingly, by his father.

“Hei mamma, hei pappa,” Isak greeted them with a somewhat forced smile—the way they were looking at him made him think he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

His mother approached him with her hands clasped in front of her. She kissed both his cheeks and when she pulled back, he examined her face closely to assess her current mental state, a habit he had had for as long as he could remember. Her eyes were clear, sharp and grey. She was stable at the moment, and it let him let out a bit of a breath.

Isak’s father nodded at him shortly from behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets before he quickly checked his pocket watch as mamma started talking.

“Isak, darling, make sure you’re home tomorrow afternoon, we’ve got your first sitting scheduled for your portrait.”

Wait. What? “My _portrait?_ ” he questioned.

“Yes, we hired the young man today, you just missed him actually, talented artist just back from studying in Amsterdam, and quite charming; he’s going to start working tomorrow.”

Isak raised his eyebrows, wondering how his mother had gotten that all out in one breath, and blinked a few times. He looked to his father in question, hoping for some more helpful explanation, which he got. Not that he was any less dissatisfied with the answer.

His father cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Your mother and I thought it would be appropriate to have an official portrait done of you, being that you are our only son and heir.”

“It’s the fashion nowadays,” his mother added, nodding vigorously as if to agree with herself, “everyone important is doing portraits.”

Isak tried (maybe not so hard) to stop himself from whining, then gave up and groaned, throwing his head back dramatically.

“But…I don’t…do I _have_ to?”

“Yes, Isak, you have to,” his father responded immediately, and Isak could sense his eyeroll.

“But it’s going to take so long; it’s such a waste of time; I have to be working on my studies…”

His father was already heading briskly for the door, though, and he knew his protests were in vain.

“I have to head to the docks; I have a meeting with our partner in Bergen.”

Just like that, his father was out the door and his mother had disappeared into one of the many rooms of the house and Isak was standing in the hallway alone. He huffed to himself, kicking at the edge of the carpet.

Less than ten minutes later he found himself sitting atop his horse, trotting leisurely over towards the residence of his best friend, Jonas. When he rode up, Jonas was already sitting outside waiting for him, and when he looked up he broke into a wide grin that Isak mirrored involuntarily. 

“Halla!”

“Hey Socrates, what’s new?”

Isak rolled his eyes at the nickname as his curly-haired friend bounded over to him. “Saddle up and I’ll tell you.”

They rode side by side at a leisurely pace down the street, then veered off into a field, heading towards the stream that they frequented regularly. Isak told Jonas about the unpleasant surprise he’d gotten when he got home, and then proceeded to complain about it for several minutes while Jonas listened patiently, because that’s what friends were for. He still had a good laugh at Isak for being so put out about having to sit for a portrait.

“It’s not that surprising, really,” Jonas reasoned. “It’s expected for a family like yours to have portraits done. And you know your mother cares about fashions like that.”

He was right; Marianne was often preoccupied by appearances and social statuses due to her upbringing in a noble family. He knew it was important to her to present their family well, to live up to their position in society. Personally, he couldn’t care less, and his father quietly disapproved as well, finding such things frivolous, but he supported anything he thought was practical.

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, “It’s starting tomorrow after I’ve finished my courses. Please come rescue me after?”

Jonas laughed. “Of course. I’ll sweep you away to come frolic through the fields,” he teased, gathering up his reins and sitting up straight. “If you can keep up, that is.” He winked, then took off, bolting ahead and hooting a laugh. Isak grinned, feeling something like tiny bubbles fizzing in his chest, and spurred his horse into a canter, determined to catch up.

The next day passed by quietly, slipping past Isak so that he was surprised when his anatomy professor rolled up the drawings of the circulatory system and dismissed the class. It happened like that sometimes; his life rolling by in a daze. He may have had a small tendency to get lost in his own head – dreamy, his mother often called him, sitting and sipping her tea with her lips tightened disapprovingly as he sat bored in the window, staring out the panes.

Isak forced himself out of his seat reluctantly, taking his time packing his books and quills away and dragging his feet out the door. He walked down the halls of the university purposefully slowly, letting his eyes scan over the elegant curves hewn into its stone walls, standing proud and staunch, a monument to education and discovery. It was always peaceful inside, a quiet oasis of focus and determination insulated from the hubbub of the world turning outside. Leaving the campus and stepping out onto the street always made Isak’s whole body feel like it needed to squint, to shy away momentarily so his senses could get adjusted to the onslaught.

He looked east, considering for just a moment being especially obnoxious and taking a detour along the water before he went home, but then sighed as he decided to be mature this time. Still, he was in no hurry, pausing to sniff the exotic perfumes and run his fingers along the silky fabrics of the street vendors he passed, kicking rocks down the dirt road childishly as he approached his home.

When he walked up the front steps, the door swung open before he got to it, causing him to balk before his mother appeared in the doorway and beckoned him in.

“Hurry, hurry,” she hissed, “he arrived a few minutes ago and we’ve still got to get you changed.”

“What? Why?” Isak questioned as she pulled him quickly down the hall and to his bedchambers.

“Because, he won’t be working on painting the details of the clothing today so it doesn’t matter exactly what you wear but I can’t have you representing our family in those rags you wear to your lessons.”

His mother huffed and pushed him into his room where there was a fresh outfit laying on his bed. She waved at it expressively and then shut the door behind him with a gust. Isak looked down at his clothes with a frown and grumbled to himself. They were perfectly normal clothes, not rags. Whatever. He rolled his eyes to no one and quickly stripped down and pulled on the outfit his mother had chosen that was apparently acceptable to be seen by a painter in.

When he stumbled out of his room he heard voices mingling down the hall; one the familiar high sycophantic tone of his mother talking to a stranger, the other a deep, mellifluous sound that rang in Isak’s ears and had him sucking in a small gasp before he could wonder why. Suddenly it was as if he was pulled by an invisible string, drawn to find the source of that voice, propelled straight to the sitting room door where he stopped himself and pressed his palm flat against the wood. He frowned, internally chastising himself for this sudden strange impulse. He shook his head like a wet dog, trying to force his mind to clear of whatever syrupy haze had just infiltrated it. Straightening his back and taking a breath, Isak put on a neutral smile and pushed the door open.

“Isak, come in,” his mother trilled, turning to face him with a wider smile than was used in private. “This Even Bech Næsheim, the artist who will be creating this portrait for us.” She stepped to the side, holding her arm out to her left and Isak’s eyes followed it, sliding over and up until they rested on the man standing behind her.

Isak blinked. The man was glowing almost, he would have sworn. Light hair smooth as cornsilk, eyes that stopped his breath with their particular shade of blue; the best blue he’d ever seen, Isak decided in an instant; smooth skin stretched over high cheekbones and a smile, wide and genuine and gleaming. He tried to pull his eyes away, to continue their path naturally, but they were stuck on Even’s face, like loose clothes on sharp briars.

He was beautiful.

_What?_

Isak frowned involuntarily, confused at himself, but not enough not to notice the tiny drop in Even’s smile.

He’d never thought anyone was beautiful. His whole life he’d wondered if something might be wrong with him because he never looked at girls and remarked on their beauty, was never impressed or enthralled. He saw beauty in people only in that he appreciated the perfect way nature had constructed the human form; a miracle through a scientific lens. But never like this. He had never understood what people meant.

“Even, this is Isak, I’m not sure where his manners are,” he vaguely registered his mother’s voice saying, and realized he’d been standing frozen for a long moment.

His cheeks felt warm, and he cleared his throat.

He thought Even was beautiful. He wasn’t supposed to think other boys were beautiful.

He held out his hand for Even to shake.

“My apologies,” he forced out in what he hoped was a convincingly even tone. “I’m feeling a little ill,” he lied.

Even’s hand enveloped his firmly, large and warm. His eyebrows knit and blue eyes turned kind and filled with concern. Isak’s chest tightened.

“If you’re not feeling well, we can certainly reschedule—”

“Nonsense,” Isak’s mother cut him off, waving in Isak’s direction like he was a fly she was trying to swat, “I’m sure he’s fine. What do you need to set up?”

Even kept his eyes on Isak for a moment, gaze measured and evaluating, then straightened and schooled his face into an accommodating mask of politeness.

“I have everything in my bag Mrs. Valtersan; I only need you to show me the room where you would like this to be done. It should be somewhere with good light, if possible.”

Marianne nodded and took a sharp turn, leading them towards the library without looking back. Isak saw Even glance at him once more through the corner of his eye, and a small voice inside him wanted to think that Even was checking that he was okay, a voice he quickly told to stop being ridiculous.

The two men dutifully followed the trailing train of Mrs. Valtersan’s skirts through the house until the entered the one room that Isak actually valued: the library, filled mostly with his grandfather’s old books, passed to his father when he had died. He snuck a sidelong glance at Even as they stopped just inside the doorway, noting the small smile when he saw the walls lined with packed shelves, the way his gaze turned almost clinical and his eyes scanned the room. Searching out light with an artist’s eye, Isak guessed.

“If I may, Mrs. Valtersan,” he began, walking towards one corner of the room, next to one of the large windows, “I would suggest this would be the best place for the portrait. For the background, I can either paint the room, or an invented scene of your choosing. If this is to your satisfaction, I’ll go ahead and start setting up.”

She nodded, pleased, and, after coming over to fuss over a few stray pieces of Isak’s hair and cluck her tongue disapprovingly, left the room.

Isak watched her go, then turned to see Even bent over his bag, rustling through it and pulling out one item after another. He was very aware of the fact that he was now alone with Even, and he felt inexplicably nervous, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room and fiddling with his hands. Even was laying out the contents of his bag on the floor, and Isak leaned to the side slightly to peak, curious. Multiple brushes and things that looked like flat knives, ceramic pots and glass jars of many colors were spread out in a line, looking like they were carefully arranged in a practiced pattern.

Wrapped up in his nosiness, Isak almost jumped when Even apparently finished what he was doing and whirled around, wiping his hands off on his thighs and turning on Isak with a warm, jovial smile. Isak merely stared at him, apparently no longer capable of interacting like a normal human, and he must have looked a bit pale because Even seemed to remember something and his face morphed into an expression of gentle worry.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. “I meant it earlier; if you’re not up to it today I can just work on the background or something.”

Isak cleared his throat to cover up a surprised choke, and tried to compose himself and not appear a complete fool.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m feeling better now. It’s fine, really.”

Even’s eyes stayed on his, like he was trying to decide whether to believe him, before he relaxed and smiled again and Isak decided he really, really liked when Even did that.

“Uh, what should I…do?” Isak asked.

“Right!” Even exclaimed, jumping into action. “Let’s get you seated first, then I’ll set up my canvas.”

He passed Isak, squinting in thought, and came back dragging one of the large armchairs strategically placed in the room for reading, a fine one of polished red leather. He positioned it a few feet from the window, angled it slightly, stood back and examined it with a critical eye, then changed the angle a bit again. He did this a few times, and when he finally seemed satisfied, gestured towards it.

“Have a seat, let me see how the light hits you this way.”

Isak gulped but nodded, stepping forwards and sinking down into the chair uneasily. Even stepped back about ten feet, then peered at him, head cocked. Isak shifted uncomfortably under the intense gaze, knowing that he must be blushing. After a moment, Even’s face softened, shifting into something Isak wasn’t familiar with. His wide eyes opened a little bit wider, and he looked something akin to bewildered. Then he smiled, one that pushed its way up into his cheeks and eyes in a way that made Isak want to smile back, even though he didn’t know what he was smiling about.

“Perfect,” Even murmured.

Isak blinked rapidly, not sure how to react, but luckily Even had already turned around, reaching for some wooden poles that had been pulled out of his bag. He unfolded them into an easel, setting it up in the exact spot he had been standing, then lifting a large canvas onto it, about three feet tall.

“Okay,” he muttered, probably to himself.

Isak tried to look natural, relaxed, but he was so _not_ relaxed at the moment that he knew he was sitting stiff and awkward.

Even leaned over and peered over at him from behind the canvas and actually let out a little chuckle, which was so unexpected Isak was almost offended.

“You can relax,” he said, good-natured amusement glinting in his eyes. “Just sit back. We’re going to be here for a while.”

Isak stopped himself from huffing- well, mostly- and trying to force himself to relax, to sink into the chair and let the tension in his muscles go.

“I’m all set up,” Even explained, “so now I just need to position you and we’ll get started.”

Isak was definitely blushing now. Why, he could not say.

“Uhh, okay.”

“So, lean back against the back of the chair, still sitting up straight but not all perched on the edge like that.”

Isak complied, shuffling back and letting himself relax a bit into the chair.

“Now, cross your legs- no, not that way- rest your left ankle on your right knee- there, good.”

Even did that thing again, where he squinted and looked at him the way his father looked at a piece of shipbuilding timber before he decided if it was good enough or not. He squirmed.

“You still look a little stiff; here, try putting your right elbow on the arm of the chair, lean into it a little.”

Isak did as he was asked, feeling weird and way too aware of each of his limbs and what they were doing at the current moment.

“What do I do with my other hand?” he asked.

“Put it on your knee. There. Good. That looks better.”

With that, Even stepped back behind his easel, grabbing a wooden disk that Isak knew was a paint palette and holding it with his outstretched fingers. They were incredibly long, Isak noticed, spanning the palette easily, holding it steady. He was quite tall, Isak realized as his eyes travelled up to Even’s face, knitted in concentration as he poured out his desired paints. Definitely had a few inches on Isak. It shouldn’t have made him feel warm in the stomach, the concept of someone being taller than him, stronger…he cut off the line of thinking abruptly, irritated with himself. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. Even appeared to be only a couple of years older than Isak’s fresh-faced 17, and he found himself suddenly curious about the man’s history. He knew he had studied his craft in Amsterdam, but he wondered how long, and where he had been before that. Before he could ask any of that, Even spoke up again.

“So, today I’ll mostly be getting down the general form; the position and shape of the body. We won’t have to worry about your face or clothing or any of that until later. If it’s alright with you, I’ll go ahead and get started.”

Isak nodded. He watched curiously as Even spread an earthy-toned paint on his palette, picking a brush and dragging it through the pigment. When Even’s eyes flicked up and focused on him, Isak looked away quickly, directing his gaze into his lap and hoping Even hadn’t noticed him staring. He could hear that Even had started painting, and was extremely conscious of the fact that in order to do so Even had to look at him extensively. He tried to ignore it, pretend Even wasn’t there, which was predictably unsuccessful. No matter where he attempted to direct his thoughts as he sat still as a startled deer, they stubbornly returned to the man in the room with him, and his reaction to said man, and what that meant.

The sound of quick brushstrokes scratching against the canvas was relaxing, almost hypnotizing, and after a while Isak got tired of fighting his mind and let the sound fade into the background, let his eyes go unfocused and blurry. He took a deep breath. He was getting worked up over nothing, really. There was nothing wrong with noticing someone’s appearance, even another man; it was simply natural upon first meeting a new person.

He continued staring at his lap, deciding it was better than accidentally meeting Even’s eye while sneakily observing him, or alternatively having to see Even looking at him so closely while he painted. Eventually, his ricocheting thoughts slowed, beginning to drag as he realized how tedious the process of sitting for a portrait really was. He thought about his studies, tried to rehearse names of medicinal plants he needed to memorize by next lesson until his brain hurt, and he was sure it had been at least a couple hours by the time he started fidgeting.

He was so bored. And stiff. And this chair was not nearly as comfortable as it looked.

He was shifting in his seat, moving as much as he could without changing his position, tapping his foot. He’d almost forgotten Even was there, frankly, when he released a long sigh while staring out the window. A soft chuckle startled him, making him jump slightly and whip his head to the left. Even was look at him with an eye-crinkling smile, raising his eyebrows and regarding Isak with amusement.

“Something wrong, Mr. Valtersan?” Even asked in an almost teasing tone, looking like he was trying to hold back more laughter.

Isak floundered for a moment, uncharacteristically having to search for his words as he felt his cheeks heat up unmistakably. He realized he’d been frowning without noticing it and smoothed his expression before responding.

“No – and please, call me Isak – nothing’s wrong. I just…it’s getting a bit tiring, sitting here for so long.”

Even blinked at him with a small frown. “Well, it’s only been about 20 minutes…” 

Isak’s jaw dropped. “20 minutes?! But…” he sputtered, then gave up on dignity and conducting himself smoothly and properly in front of this stranger who seemed to be able to steal all his eloquence and poise, flopped his head back on the back of the chair and groaned.

Even laughed openly then, seemingly amused rather than annoyed by his client acting like a grumpy child. There was that smile again, bright and unselfconscious.

“I’ll work for probably two or three hours total today,” he said, rushing to continue when Isak started to open his mouth in indignation, “ _but_ , why don’t you go ahead and get up and stretch now, take a little walk around. You’re new at this, after all.”

Isak just barely caught himself to stop a pout from forming at the idea that he needed some special treatment or something, but he had to concede that he did really need a break. So he nodded, glancing up at Even somewhat bashfully before he unfolded his aching limbs and pushed himself up out of the chair. He reached his arms up towards the ceiling and stretched his whole body, lengthening his sore muscles in the most satisfying way, to the point where he didn’t even care that he probably looked ridiculous and was definitely hiking his shirt up a bit past his trousers. When he dropped his arms back down with a relieved sigh, he glanced over and found Even’s wide blue eyes on him, looking away quickly almost as if he’d been caught. Even cleared his throat, staring down at the palette in his hands and fumbling with it.

Isak didn’t know what to make of it, but now that he attention was drawn over to where the painter worked, he was curious.

“I notice you’re only using one color of paint right now,” he spoke up. “Why is that?”

Even looked a little surprised, like he wasn’t expecting Isak to speak to him, or to ask questions like that. He didn’t seem to mind, though, his raised eyebrows coupled with a crooked smile.

“When I’m doing portraits, I start with what’s called dead coloring. I paint the subject in one neutral color first, capturing the shapes and composition and planning out areas of light and shadow. After it’s done is when I’ll go back over it to add color and detail.” Even explained himself patiently and Isak nodded along.

Even paused, looking at Isak appraisingly. “Would you like to see what I’ve done so far?” His eyes sparkled, playful.

Isak shuffled his feet a bit before responding, inexplicably nervous at the prospect of getting closer, of stepping into Even’s space. He chewed on his lip and looked up at Even through his eyelashes, not really trying to hide his hesitation. Even, however, only smiled wider, warming Isak up to him whether he liked it or not. He took a step back from the canvas, gesturing Isak over.

“Come on, no need to be shy. It’s alright.” There was a lilt of laughter to his voice, and he was smiling like he was trying to hold back his amusement.

Isak narrowed his eyes at him, not appreciating being treated like a reluctant animal needing to be coaxed. The fact that it _was_ exactly what he needed was equally annoying.

Not one to back down, Isak lifted his chin up and set his jaw stubbornly, striding over like it was no problem at all. When he came to a halt behind the easel he realized he may have overcorrected, as he had landed himself rather closer to Even than one would normally stand to a stranger. Or a not-stranger, really. When he looked up, those blue eyes were shockingly close, blinking down at him. Isak gulped, wanting to back away but not wanting to make it any more awkward or admit he was affected.

After a lingering moment, Even turned away from him, shaking his head slightly before nodding towards the canvas that Isak had been too distracted to even get a glimpse of yet. Finally he looked, and saw—well, himself. A translucent, almost ghostly Isak painted in strokes of warm reddish brown, only his face and the tops of his shoulders so far, and with minimal detail, but unmistakably him.

“It looks just like me,” he muttered, transfixed. Even chuckled beside him as Isak leaned forward to look more closely.

“Why do you sound surprised?” Even asked in mock offense. “Isn’t that sort of the point of a portrait?”

Isak broke his inspection just to roll his eyes at Even.

“I know _that_ , I just…it’s different seeing it.”

“Well this is only the very beginning, so do you think you could tolerate sitting for me again?”

Isak sighed and looked forlornly at the chair but headed over anyways and got himself back in position, careful to replicate it as exactly as he could. Even shot him a grateful smile and dipped his brush back in the paint.

“We can talk, you know,” Even said after a stretch of silence. “If you need some entertainment.”

Isak didn’t respond at first, not sure how. He realized he actually really would like to talk to Even. He wanted to know more about him, and to hear more of his voice, to be honest. Speaking of that – now that his initial flustered phase had worn off, he was able to pick up on a familiar accent in Even’s voice.

“You’re from Norway too, aren’t you?” Isak asked.

Even nodded, smiling warmly. “Yes. Oslo. I’ve been away for several years now though, with my apprenticeship and now working here.”

“My family came here from Oslo a couple of years ago,” Isak explained. “It’s different.”

“It is. I miss the mountains.”

Somehow that seemed to perfectly fit the image he was building of the painter. He could just imagine a young Even lugging an easel and paints out into the wilderness and dreamily painting mountains en plein air.

“Does your family still live back in Oslo?” Isak asked, struggling not to shift his position to lean towards Even, curious to learn more about the painter, and undeniably drawn to him.

Even nodded, not looking at Isak at the moment as he continued painting.

“It gets lonely, being so far away from family.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, it gets lonely with mine right here, too,” Isak admitted, without thinking. He froze, shocked at himself for opening up like that to a practical stranger, and a bit embarrassed at being so candid.

Even, however, was unphased, glancing away from his work to give Isak an understanding, wry smile.

“I…can see how that would be the case, if it’s not out of my place to say.”

Isak frowned slightly, shaking his head. He didn’t like the idea of Even feeling like he couldn’t say anything in front of him. The whole premise of them being on different levels somehow made him sharply uncomfortable.

“Say whatever you want,” he said, trying to sound casual, but earnest. “You don’t – you don’t have to act differently around me.”

Even’s smile was wide, and it made Isak feel warm and happy.

For the rest of the session, he settled down, sitting still with much more ease as he and Even continued to talk, floating easily from topic to topic like being carried down a lazy river.

When Even started packing up his things, placing them in careful order back into his bag, Isak shook himself, blinking like he had just woken up from a long nap. He realized he had practically no sense of how long it had been, but it must have been at least a couple of hours if Even was finished for the day already. It was surprising, considering the fact that the first twenty minutes of the session had seemed to stretch on forever.

“Are you done?” Isak asked, even though the answer was obvious. He just wanted to have something to say to Even, felt like he needed to delay his departure, even if just by seconds.

“Yes,” he nodded, adding, “Just for today, of course.”

“Oh. Well…I should go get my parents, shouldn’t I? So they can pay you. You can just wait here –“

Even laughed heartily, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about that; it will all be taken care of once I’m done. But it’s kind of you to think of me.”

Isak didn’t know what to say in return, and he didn’t know why his stupid cheeks kept getting hot, so he floundered for a moment before sighing, resigning to let Even go. He didn’t even know why he was trying to stop him, really; he was sure Even had plenty of other things he would rather be off doing.

“When is our next session?” Isak asked, once he finally came up with an appropriate question, watching as Even closed up his bag and swung it up onto his shoulder with a grunt that made something tighten in Isak’s chest.

“Tomorrow, I believe” he replied, punctuated with a bright smile.

“Alright. Well, I’ll…uhh, I’ll see you then?”

Even’s smiled quirked to the side, amused. “I should hope so.”

Isak walked him to the door and watched as he walked away, ready to dart behind the door in case he looked back. He was intrigued, to say the least. This hadn’t been in the slightest what he had expected for today, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with all that had happened in the past few hours. Even was undeniably charming, interesting and a bit mysterious; wholly unlike anyone else Isak knew.

He wandered to his bedroom, trailing his hand along the wall as he went, dragging his feet. Sighing, he flopped down on his bed, lying on his back and staring up at his ceiling, noticing some cracks he had never seen before.

He had some thinking to do. Hopefully no one would come and bother him. His room was a bit stuffy, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up to open the window. His heart was still beating fast in his chest, feeling more like the heart of a songbird held under his hand.

It was strange. He’d never felt like this before, but he wasn’t stupid. The signs all clearly pointed to him having some sort of feelings about Even that he had only ever seen from the young men and women dancing close at parties, only heard about in books. But was that even possible? He’d never considered that this was an option. That maybe a boy would be the one to make his heart flutter, when for so long no one had come close. Sure, sometimes growing up there had been other boys who he’d been fixated on for a while – even Jonas at one point, but he’d never read that much into it. He always assumed he just wanted to be friends with them, but that certainly wasn’t what he felt about Even.

Well, not exactly. He would love to be Even’s friend; really any scenario where he got to spend more time with him seemed appealing right now. But there was something else, too. What he wasn’t used to was the feeling of wanting to be closer to him, the little thrill he got, a tickle in his stomach, when he imagined Even’s hand brushing his.

The scientist that he was, Isak decided that whatever this was that he was feeling, it needed further investigation before he could come to any conclusions, so it wasn’t worth worrying about yet. Well, that was what he told himself, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Just for fun, I imagine Even's painting style to be something like a combination of Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Caravaggio, or basically just a mix of a bunch of my favorite artists who mainly painted people. He would make Isak look pretty, is what I'm saying.
> 
> \- Natalie

The next day felt painfully boring in comparison to the day before. Isak felt as if he just sighed and yawned his way through his morning classes, unable to keep his mind from floating off to thoughts of Even before he reigned it in, snapping himself back to the present.

There was some complicated chart hanging up at the front of the room now, which he had completely missed the lecturer’s explanation of. Squinting at it, he determined that he would be able to figure it out on his own if he consulted his books, and just gave up on paying attention entirely.

Usually, astronomy was one of his favorite courses. There was something enchanting to him about learning about the stars, tracing the constellations and tracking how they moved throughout the seasons. He treated what he learned with some skepticism – he had heard the whispers about Galileo, how he had proposed that the sun was at the center of the universe, and how he had faced the Church for it. Isak was more inclined to believe science than some group of rich and powerful clergymen, but it was an opinion he knew to keep to himself.

Once his classes were finished, he floated along the busy streets of the city, feeling unwilling to go home just yet for some reason. He wondered where Even lived, if he lived near the market, taking inspiration from the vivid colors and smells, or if his quarters were near the water, in one of the artists’ blocks there where young men lived together in their studios.

He wondered idly if he should be picking up some produce or spices at the market while he was there, to bring back for their cook to use, but he really had no clue what kinds of things went into any of their meals, and he would probably end up being more of a hindrance than a help.

Meandering through the stalls, he ran his fingers along the soft fabrics hanging up for sale, weaving his way through the stream of people buying and selling and haggling over prices. It was a warm summer day, and he sought out the shade underneath a canopied stall of a bead-seller to stop for a moment and gather himself.

Scanning the street casually, he almost passed right over the back of a familiar auburn head, bent over a display of jewelry. He perked up at the sight of Eva, his friend since childhood, and made his way over to her.

“Eva!” he called, once he was close enough for her to hear him.

Her head whipped around, eyes searching the crown briefly before they found him, a smile spreading on her face.

“Isak!” she exclaimed, and turned to throw her arms around his neck in a hug, ignoring propriety completely.

Isak stiffened a little; he knew it wasn’t really respectable to be hugging a female friend in the street, but he returned the embrace before pulling away. Eva always seemed to forget that they weren’t children anymore – from the way she spoke so freely to the way she still wore her hair loose and long – but there was something comforting about that quality that Isak appreciated.

“How are you?” he inquired. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Eva nodded. “Far too long. But I’m alright. Same as always, really.”

They turned from the stall and started walking down the road together, slowly, not minding how they were jostled and bumped into by the crowd.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Surely you haven’t been sent to run _errands?_ ” she teased, whispering the last word like it was blasphemy.

Isak rolled his eyes, used to the jabs at his coddled lifestyle. Eva’s family was well-off too, but they weren’t as high up the social ladder as Isak’s. He was reminded with a pang of anger of how his mother had occasionally spoken of Eva, implying that she would be an acceptable last resort if Isak couldn’t match with a girl of their same status. He was almost more offended on her behalf that _that_ was his mother’s reasoning than he would have been if she merely disapproved of Eva’s fiery personality.

But that had never been an option that had crossed either of their minds; Isak only saw Eva as a friend, and besides, he was fairly certain that Jonas would fight him for that position. And from what he had observed from Eva, she would be quite happy to accept Jonas’s offer.

Tuning back into the present again, Isak realized the Eva had asked him a question, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Just wasting time, I guess. I didn’t want to go home after my classes.”

She nodded understandingly, familiar with the Valtersan family home.

“Well, we’ll just have to find something to entertain us then.”

Eva’s eyes lit up with an idea, always a precursor to mischief that Isak should have learned to fear by now. She linked her arm with his and marched him down the street with purpose before he could protest whatever it was she was planning.

“Where are we goiiinngg,” he complained as he was dragged towards a peculiar stall, draped in dark fabric tassled with golden coins.

“We’re getting our tarot read!” she explained, and Isak instantly groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, really?! Eva, you know that’s all made up.”

“Oh, don’t be a bore, it’s just for fun, come on.”

With that, he found himself standing awkwardly underneath the makeshift tent next to Eva, facing a woman behind a table with wild hair, dripping with colorful jewelry. Eva pulled out two coins and placed them in the woman’s outstretched palm. She gestured for them to sit, and Isak reluctantly pulled out a chair and sat next to Eva across from her.

Still silent, the woman picked up a deck of large cards, turning them slowly in her hands and shuffling them.

“What would you like to know about today?” she said suddenly, making Isak jump. Her voice was gravelly and sharp, cutting through the ambient noises of the street outside to demand the focus of their attention. She was looking at Isak, her gaze piercing and unblinking. Isak glanced nervously over to Eva, like she could tell him what he was supposed to say.

“Uhmm…well, I-I guess,” he stuttered, trying to come up with a topic to ask the reader about. His mind immediately honed in on one thing, latching on to the thought. _Even_. He tried to shake the thought off, come up with something else, but it wasn’t budging. He floundered for a moment, trying to stop himself from blurting out something in front of Eva that he shouldn’t. How could he even ask about Even, anyway? And why was that what he wanted to ask about?

Everyone was silent, waiting on him, and the woman still hadn’t blinked. He scrambled to think of a way he could ask about what he wanted to ask without revealing it to Eva.

“C-could you maybe just tell me about my immediate future? Like the next few weeks. If…anything important is going to happen?”

The woman’s gaze on him intensified for a moment before she nodded slowly once and finally released his gaze, placing the stack of cards face down on the cloth-covered table, before splitting them into four smaller piles.

She began taking cards off of the top of the pile, flipping them and placing them face-up on the table in front of Isak until there were three cards there. He leaned in, peering at the pictures painted on them, impatiently trying to see if they looked good or bad before she had told him what they meant.

The woman hummed low in her throat, a curious sound, almost amused.

“Well, this is interesting,” she mused, one corner of her lips curling up.

She reached out and tapped the first card with her index finger, long nail clicking against it.

“ _This_ is the Hierophant,” she explained. The card was upside down, and Isak craned his head to make out the image of a man, seeming to be some sort of priest, holding a scepter and raising his hand in blessing as two other figures knelt at his feet.

“Because it is reversed, this signifies that you will begin to challenge the things you have been taught, and instead decide what you believe to be true. You will swim against the stream, using your own values as your true north.”

She moved to the next card, not really even giving Isak time to process what he was hearing.

“Here you have Strength. You will be able to use your inner strength and determination to overcome whatever obstacles come your way.”

The card was clearly old, worn at the edges, and painted with a picture of a woman stroking the head of a lion. Isak frowned, unsure what to make of any of it.

“Next is the Lovers,” she said, pointing to a card depicting a man and a woman standing next to each other, with an angel hovering over them. The woman peered up at him, an eyebrow raised an a bit of a smirk on her painted lips.

“Pretty straightforward. If we look at the next card,” she continued, shifting to the last card before him, again an image of a couple, standing together, looking off into the distance with their arms outstretched. “the Ten of Cups. These two are certainly connected. You will find true love, a pure, steadfast and stable bond with your soulmate. This will be the person you build a life with.”

At that prediction, Isak blushed, feeling suddenly hot and almost suffocated in the small room. His blood was rushing and he couldn’t control the thoughts that were swirling around in his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Eva turn to him and raise her eyebrow, like she wanted to ask him a million questions, but he avoided her gaze.

“It is unusual to have this many of the major arcana in one reading,” the woman spoke, examining him thoughtfully. “This is going to be a crucial period in your life, a time of great change.”

Isak swallowed thickly and nodded, unsure what else to do. He noticed that his palms were sweating, and wiped them on his trousers.

He shouldn’t read too much into it. He didn’t believe in this kind of thing, anyway. He knew there logically couldn’t be any truth to it. But he couldn’t explain away the racing of his heart or the nervous tightening in the pit of his stomach.

The adventure to the tarot reader’s had proved to be enough of a distraction that Isak actually forgot for a while what he had been waiting so impatiently for all day, and by the time he started on his way home, he realized he was actually just barely going to be back in time for Even to show up for their appointment. When he rushed in the side door in order to avoid his mother’s scolding for nearly being late, he almost ran into Even on his way to the library.

He skidded to a halt before they could collide and laughed awkwardly, out of breath from his rush.

“Careful, there,” Even chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow at him and then nodding for him to go ahead into the library before him.

“Someone’s in a bit of a rush today,” he teased as he threw down his bag and began unpacking it.

Isak was still panting faintly, trying to catch his breath as he wandered over to his chair. “Yeah, uh, my classes ran late,” he lied, not really sure why.

“You’re a student?” Even asked, raising a curious eyebrow. Isak nodded.

“I’m studying natural philosophy at the University – astronomy, anatomy, alchemy, that sort of thing.”

“Wow. You must be quite smart.” Evan shot him a toothy grin, and Isak blushed and shrugged. “Do you want to be a doctor?”

“No…I think I want to be a scholar. To keep learning, and come up with theories about how the universe works.”

Once again, he found himself being much more open with Even than he should have been comfortable being with a near-stranger, more than he was with almost everyone else. Even’s smile grew, his face lighting up as he set the last of his materials on his easel and started to approach Isak.

“I think that sounds wonderful. You’ll be the next Nicholas Copernicus,” he said playfully.

Isak wanted to roll his eyes but he was frozen by Even’s impending proximity, his brain not catching up to what was going on until Even reached out and took his wrist gently in his hand, moving it slightly. He nearly gasped when Even touched him, a flash of lightening going through him, all his nerve endings lighting up in anticipation. Even repositioned him so that he was sitting identically to last time, and every gentle touch made Isak’s skin buzz and set his head into a spin. When he was done, moving back behind his easel, Isak was finally able to breath, left decidedly off-kilter.

He couldn’t seem to calm the anxious racing of his heart as Even settled in and began to paint, every beat reminding him of the tarot reader’s words mere hours earlier. He tried to focus on the steady scratching of Even’s brush on the canvas, smaller strokes focusing in on one area. He tilted his head, wondering what part he was working on now.

“You’re deep in thought today,” Even observed, breaking Isak out of his spiral.

Isak shrugged, biting his lip. “What are you working on today?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m putting a little more detail into the underdrawing,” he explained, “and getting bits like your hands and legs that I didn’t get to before. Then, I’ll start roughly blocking out where there will be areas of light and shadow.”

Isak nodded, vaguely understanding. He noticed that when Even was talking, he didn’t feel quite so nervous. Something about the calm in his deep voice was settling Isak down, and he decided not to read too much into it.

“What made you decide to become an artist?” he asked, figuring if he kept asking questions, he could keep Even talking.

Even smiled, tilting his head and leaning back from his work a bit, examining it.

“Well, it’s been something I’ve always enjoyed since I was a child, and when I got a bit older I figured out I was kind of good at it, so I decided to take the opportunity and run with it. It was a better option than what I would have been able to do if I’d just followed in my father’s footsteps, to be honest; my parents aren’t very well-off, and the life of a farmer is harder than that of a painter.”

“When did you start?”

“I left home for Amsterdam and started my apprenticeship when I was 15. I had training for many years before that, of course, but that was when I began to paint professionally.” He painted silently for a minute, frowning a little and leaning in closer to the painting, and Isak let him focus.

“What about you?” he asked once he had apparently gotten past the difficult part. “Why are you studying natural philosophy instead of taking over your father’s business?”

Isak gave a short, mirthless laugh. Even the hours of portrait-painting weren’t enough time to effectively communicate how little he wanted to have anything to do with Terje Valtersan’s shipbuilding business.

“Business isn’t exactly my cup of tea,” he said instead. “But science is just so fascinating – there’s so much that we don’t know; so much to discover! It’s like – the natural world is organized into all of these rules, and it’s just designed to work perfectly. But we don’t _know_ yet how everything works, because so much of it is invisible to the eye. And then there’s astronomy – there’s this whole universe outside of the Earth, and literally _anything_ could be out there, and we hardly know anything about it.”

He stopped himself, realized he’d been rambling when his breath finally ran out. He flushed, a bit embarrassed at getting so enthusiastic. His parent’s would have scolded him for showing too much excitement; they said it wasn’t gentlemanly. But when he looked up to Even, he was smiling widely, staring at him with sparkling eyes in a way that made a shiver run down his spine.

“You’re clearly very passionate about it. You’ll have to teach me something sometime.”

The suggestion made Isak smile and something warmed in his chest. “Okay,” he murmured, watching as Even returned to his work.

It was just as mesmerizing as it had been the last time, the sounds of the sweeping brushstrokes, the house quiet enough that he could even hear Even’s steady breaths, the fluid movement of his hand across the canvas, the rhythm reaching through his wrist and arm and all the way up to his shoulder. Isak could even catch glimpses of the muscle there shifting and flexing underneath the fabric of his linen shirt. The thought made his mouth go a little dry for some reason, and he suddenly wished for water.

Drifting down, his eyes travelled the line of Even’s arm, pausing on his wrist, admiring the elegant way it moved, the fine protrusion of the bones. They moved to his hand, where the bulk of the work was being done. There was a splash of color, a paint streak that had gotten on the outside edge of his hand. He mentally catalogued the bones, all the delicate phalanges and metacarpals working together in a complex, organized pattern. They were so skilled, Even’s hands, and that was something Isak admired. His own hands were not so capable of anything, had not worked the way Even’s had. He wondered, if he were to spread his hand and place his palm against Even’s, how much smaller his own hand would seem.

Isak bit his lower lip, frowning in slight confusion at the path his mind had taken, and at why it had caused his cheeks to heat up. He shifted in his seat, wishing in the moment that he had anything at all to hide behind, rather than having his every movement and expression, conscious or not, open and exposed to Even’s eyes.

Even pulled back from the painting, letting out a long breath like he had been holding it and squinting at it critically. Apparently satisfied, he lowered his arm, putting down his brush, and looked over to Isak. His eyes flicked over Isak’s face, clearly noticing his flush. Their eyes held each other for a long moment before Even cleared his throat.

“Well, uh, I’m finished for today.”

“Oh. Okay.” Isak was surprised; it certainly hadn’t felt like he’d been sitting there for hours this time. “When will you be back?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too anxious for his return.

Even grinned. “The day after tomorrow. Think you can wait that long?” Even joked, and then he _winked_ , and Isak was too flustered to even walk Even out to the door.

That night, lying in bed, Isak could not get comfortable. He felt antsy, not satisfied with any position he tried to lie in. The sheets were crumpled under him where he had crawled out to lie on top of them, and despite the cool night he felt too warm. He was shifting, squirming on his back, huffing in annoyance.

He let his head flop to the side, and he stared out his window, the curtain pushed aside enough to see the pale glow of the moon. It reminded him of Even’s skin, he thought offhand in his tired daze, and he kept staring.

Closing his eyes, he wished he could somehow feel the moonlight that fell on him, painted over his cheekbones. He imagined it would feel like tickling feathers, or the soft touch of fingertips brushing his skin. His breath was evening out, getting deeper. The phantom fingers dancing along his cheeks transformed, becoming long and strong, and easily recognizable. He wondered idly if Even’s fingertips were calloused from his work, if they would feel rough or soft.

Suddenly, he was very aware of his hand, resting below his ribs. Sighing slightly, he let it migrate slowly down, along his stomach, goosebumps trailing in its path. He felt incredibly drowsy, too drowsy to question what he was doing or where his mind was heading, like he was melting into the mattress beneath him. There was still an uncomfortable itch somewhere inside of him, but he was ready to give in and scratch it. His hand drifted further down, landing over the crotch of his sleeping trousers, where he found that he was getting hard. He bit his lip, ground down a little with the heel of his palm. He cupped himself loosely through his pants, letting his hips buck up into his hand and stroking lazily.

There wasn’t any conscious decision to it, but his hand found its way under his waistband, the initial touch of his cold fingers to his bare skin making him shiver. He felt a twinge of anticipation before he wrapped his hand around himself, letting out a quiet, breathy moan when he did. It had been too long since he had made himself feel good like this, and as he gave himself a couple strokes to full hardness, it felt like instant relief.

Poking out his tongue to wet his lips, Isak’s mouth fell open as he gripped his cock more firmly, making his hips twist in pleasure. As he got lost in the haze of sensation, the brewing lust, he found himself imagining that the hand stroking him was larger, attached to a long, strong arm. Before he even realized it, his mind was conjuring up an image of Even’s face, his rosebud lips bitten pink, his blue eyes glassy pools. He gasped, bucking his hips into his hand, arching his back. He didn’t know what he was doing, touching himself to the thought of Even, but it felt too good to stop and think.

His strokes were speeding up, getting less precise and more desperate, as soft moans spilled from his lips. The rest of Even’s body materialized in his imagination, hovering over him, naked and so, so close. He imagined it was Even’s capable hand moving slickly over his dick rather than his own, imagined he could feel the heat of Even’s breath on his cheek, hear the rumble of his deep voice as he talked him through it.

Isak came with a strangled cry, muffled against his arm for fear of waking his parents. His whole body twitched with the aftershocks, and his chest rose and fell rapidly with heavy breaths. As the come on his stomach and coating his hand started to dry, Isak’s head cleared, and as soon as it did, he froze in horror.

What had he just done?

He leapt off his bed in panic, as if he needed to hide the evidence. Grabbing a cloth, he wiped his stomach and hand clean of the sticky mess with a grimace. Crawling back into bed, he pulled the covers up tight under his chin and stared at the ceiling. The moonlight was still streaming into the room, and he thought about getting up to close his curtains, but he didn’t want to bother getting back up.

His cheeks were hot with embarrassment, even though there was no one there to see him; no one knew what he had done. He couldn’t believe it himself. But the thought of Even while he had his hand wrapped around himself had made it feel better than it ever had, made him come harder than he knew he could.

There was no denying it now. He had these feelings about Even, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He let his head loll back, turning his face to the sun. When he opened his eyes and flicked them over, Even was staring at him, his eyes wide and so incredibly blue. He didn’t look away, and neither did Isak, who was blinking at him questioningly. After a moment, Even cleared his throat and looked back to his sketchbook, picking up his charcoal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter a day early because it's a holiday so I have extra time :) In this chapter, Isak and Even get to have a little fun, so I hope you enjoy it. Happy Monday! 
> 
> cw: description of a minor psychotic episode

The next time Isak saw Even, he was nervous and jittery, nearly jumping when he heard the knock on the front door. He was sure that Even would somehow read his mind, that he would see his face and immediately know what Isak had done behind closed doors. He struggled to meet Even’s eye, avoiding looking at him entirely and focusing on the floor while he stepped aside to let him in and walked before him to the library after a mumbled “hi.” Even hung back for a second, probably thrown off by the stilted greeting, and followed him hesitantly.

Isak went straight to his chair, sitting down in it with a thump and staring at his hands, interlaced on his lap. He realized he was probably doing just the opposite of what he wanted to – that his weird behavior made it clear that something was wrong, when if he’d just acted normal Even probably would have never had a reason to think that he was hiding something, but he couldn’t help it.

Seeing Even had him flustered, to put it simply, in a number of ways. He felt guilty, knowing that he had used Even’s image in a way that Even didn’t know about and probably wouldn’t appreciate. At the same time, seeing Even in the flesh for the first time since he’d seen him in his imagination was bringing back some of the feelings he’d elicited, very inconveniently. It was like he now associated Even with that intense pleasure, and he could only hope it wouldn’t show, when he was going to be sitting directly under Even’s gaze for hours.

Throughout the first half hour or so of their session, Even seemed to be trying his best to coax Isak out of whatever mood he was in, asking him questions and smiling brightly and trying to initiate conversation. Isak appreciated the effort, and felt bad that Even was clearly noticing his weird behavior and his own happy mood seemed to be wavering, but he was just still too jittery to be responsive.

Eventually, Even must have given up on waiting for Isak to snap out of it, because he put his brush down and stepped out from behind the easel, cocking his head to the side and looking at Isak with a pensive smile.

“You’re not yourself today,” he stated, and it wasn’t a question, so Isak didn’t respond, just sat frozen and stared at Even expectantly, some part of him hoping that Even would just figure out whatever it was he needed that he couldn’t even figure out himself and fix this for him.

Even nodded, as if Isak had confirmed his beliefs. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me why.”

He perked up a bit, like he’d had an idea. “Your parents aren’t home today, right?”

Isak frowned slightly, confused, but shook his head nonetheless. “No, they’ll be away for several hours, at least.”

“Perfect,” Even exclaimed, already picking up his materials and starting to throw them back in his bag while Isak looked on in confusion “I think what we need is to get out of here for a while.”

“Huh?”

Even straightened up and grinned, eyes bright. “Let’s go outside, get some fresh air.” He shrugged. “It’ll be for the good of the portrait in the long run; maybe a change of scenery will…refresh us, and speed things up.”

He was clearly really reaching for a good excuse to leave, but Isak wasn’t of the mind to argue with him. At least outside, he wouldn’t be stuck in the stifling confinement of the library while he stewed in his discomfort and confusion.

So, with a nod and a shrug of his shoulder, Isak tacitly agreed, and Even’s grin brightened even further. He stuffed the last of his things into his bag and hoisted it up over his shoulder, turning on his heel and starting towards the door, leaving Isak to follow him.

Isak felt a little thrill leaving the house; just the idea of doing something they weren’t really supposed to felt a bit exciting, like skipping school as a child. Despite his dour mood, the immediate sunlight and refreshing breeze were irresistibly pleasant, and he found himself smiling as they traipsed out the front path.

Even was leading the way, seeming to know exactly where he wanted to go, so Isak just tried to keep up. They travelled a little ways down the main road, then cut through a field and ended up intersecting a smaller path in the forest, which they followed until they reached a small clearing. After getting his bearings a bit, Isak determined they were still near his home, just on the other side of the road, and they were near the small river that ran this way.

Even made his way out into the middle of the clearing and dropped his bag with a thump, spinning around and looking at Isak, putting his hands on his hips.

“Good enough spot, don’t you think?”

Isak looked around, trying to seem like he was evaluating it, though he didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for. He shrugged, looking back to Even.

“Uhh, yeah, it looks nice.”

“Awesome,” Even exclaimed, plopping himself down on the ground right where he stood and sitting cross-legged, looking up at Isak expectantly.

Hesitantly, Isak meandered over, closely examining the grass beneath his feet to procrastinate, before sinking down and settling a few feet from Even. He could feel Even’s eyes on him, almost like his cheek was being heated under the sun, but he didn’t look, just stared at the ground and pulled at a clump of grass. He knew he probably seemed like he was pouting like a child, but he didn’t know what else to do. It was like he was frozen, unable to take a step towards Even, metaphorically or otherwise.

After a minute, he started to notice a scratching sound and looked up. Even had taken out a small sketchbook and had it resting on his bent knee where he was drawing on it with quick, broad strokes of charcoal.

“What are you doing?” Isak asked.

Even looked up, smiling and pausing his hurried hand for a moment. “Sketching you. I _am_ supposed to be working, after all,” he explained with a smirk. “And this will help me to get more familiar with my subject. The natural light helps me see how your face looks with different patterns of shadow.”

Isak blinked slowly, accepting the answer but still feeling a bit unsure, almost shy. He returned his gaze to the grass and, a moment later, heard Even resume his drawing.

The day was exceedingly pleasant, a late-summer warmth to the air, the breeze soft and gentle, and Isak found himself relaxing into it against his will. Without thinking about it, he let his eyes flutter closed and breathed in deeply through his nose, catching the faint scent of honeysuckle, basking in the orange glow of the light through his eyelids. He let his head loll back, turning his face to the sun. When he opened his eyes and flicked them over, Even was staring at him, his eyes wide and so incredibly blue. He didn’t look away, and neither did Isak, who was blinking at him questioningly. After a moment, Even cleared his throat and looked back to his sketchbook, picking up his charcoal.

“Turn that way,” he instructed, gesturing for Isak to turn around.

“Huh?”

“So I can draw your other side,” Even explained, smirking slightly.

Isak complied, shuffling himself around and ending up a little closer to Even than before. He looked up at the sky, clear with some high streaks of cloud, and wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them against his chest.

“It’s nice out here,” he mused, not really meaning to say it out loud.

Even hummed in agreement. “Beautiful, I would say.”

They sat in silence for a few moments more, while Isak let his mind wander, skipping along contentedly.

“Summer is my favorite season,” he stated, not quite sure why he was sharing that fact.

“That makes sense. You seem like a summer person. Mine is winter.”

“What?!” Isak exclaimed, looking at Even in disbelief. Even laughed heartily, throwing his head back. “In _Oslo_? Winter is like…it’s _so_ cold! And it’s dark all the time!”

Even just continued to laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “All true. I just love it. It’s so beautiful in the winter, and the snow is like magic.”

Isak raised an eyebrow at him, still unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“Back in Amsterdam, the canals would freeze over in the dead of winter, and we would go ice skating on them. It was very fun.” Even smiled down at his sketchbook, clearly reliving fond memories.

Watching Even work quietly, Isak let his gaze linger, tracing down his face, resting on each feature with curiosity. Even appeared not to notice, or at least if he did he ignored it, and let Isak stare.

With a flourish and a flick of the charcoal, Even looked up with a grin, snapping his sketchbook closed with one hand, making Isak jump.

“You know what I think would _really_ be a good idea?”

Isak fixed him with a skeptical look. “No…?”

“Going out on the river,” Even said matter-of-factly, like that wasn’t a completely ridiculous proposition.

“What?! How would that be a good idea?”

“ _Because_ , it would be fun and help you relax. And a portrait looks no good if the subject is all tense and nervous.”

“I’m not ner—” Isak began to protest, but Even was already getting up and calling for Isak to follow him before running off towards the riverbank. With a grumble, Isak pushed himself off of the ground and ran after him, internally bemoaning how ridiculous this whole thing was and trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

When he caught up with Even, he was standing on the riverbank with his hands on his hips, looking down. Isak came up next to him and followed his gaze, finding a small, beaten-up rowboat bobbing on the surface of the slow-moving river, tied to a sturdy root coming out of the clay of the bank.

Isak peered at Even dubiously, about to say that surely he wasn’t suggesting they take this rickety old rowboat that surely belonged to someone else, when Even just crouched down and grabbed onto some roots, lowering himself down precariously off the steep bank and hopping into the boat, which rocked ominously.

“Come on down!” Even called up at him, squinting against the sun and bringing up a hand to shade his eyes.

“We- we can’t…can we?” Isak sputtered, torn – he wanted to join Even, to go on whatever adventure he was inviting him on, but he was nervous. With this, they were undeniably getting beyond the scope of a strictly professional relationship. He felt like he didn’t know what he was getting into, like he was opening up some sort of floodgate, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for it.

“Sure we can! We’ll return it, it’s fine,” Even assured, reaching his hand up towards Isak. “Here, I’ll help you down.”

After a moment’s pause, Isak gave in and bent down, carefully turning and searching for footholds with his toes while gripping white-knuckled to the tree roots as he tried to clamber down before he felt hands on him, gripping his calves and then his hips, securing him as he came down. By the time his feet hit the wooden bow, with Even supporting him with a hand on his elbow and one around his waist, Isak was blushing madly. He hoped he could pass it off as just being from the slight exertion, and kept his head bent anyway as he crouched down and sat cross-legged in the belly of the boat.

Even climbed past him, swaying worryingly as the boat rocked under their momentarily uneven weight, and sat himself down at the other end, taking hold of the oars and grinning like everything was going according to plan.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed.

Isak wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t want to burst Even’s bubble.

“Oh, could you untie us?” he asked, and Isak craned back and struggled for a moment with the rope knotted around the root on the riverbank before it came loose, releasing them so that they moved forward with a lurch, making them both flail for a moment before they regained their balance.

Even wrestled with the oars to get them under control as Isak sat there, feeling rather useless, until they floated away from the bank and slipped into the slow current in the middle of the river.

Sighing contentedly, Even leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him as he lazily stroked the oars, propelling them onwards slightly faster than the crawling pace the river would carry them at. Isak peered over the edge of the boat, watching the greenish water flow by, licking up against the wood-planked sides. He was craning his neck to look, afraid to shift his weight too much to the side so he didn’t tip the boat, and he heard Even chuckle.

“What?” he asked, already preparing to argue back against whatever it was Even was laughing at him for.

“You haven’t spent a lot of time in rowboats, have you?” Even asked, more like observed, holding back a giggle.

“I just don’t want to fall over!” Isak protested, making Even laugh even more.

“Doesn’t your father own a shipbuilding company? You would think you’d be quite at home on this kind of thing.”

Isak rolled his eyes, scoffing. “The ships are like…ten times the size of this, and they don’t tip over when you move the wrong way.”

“What, are you afraid of getting wet?” Even teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Do I look like I’m afraid of getting wet?!”

“Yeah, kind of.”

Isak was laughing now, he couldn’t help himself, forgetting about whatever worries had been coloring all his thoughts today. Even was apparently insistent on making him have fun, and he could no longer remember why he was resisting.

Leaning back, Isak tried to make himself comfortable nestled between the hard sides of the boat, and allowed himself to take in the surroundings. The trees up on the riverbank were passing them by slowly, their old, knotted trunks bent so that their branches hung low over the calm surface of the water, casting dappled sunlight that they moved under as they went. Even was paddling in a steady rhythm, the sounds of the oars hitting the water and pulling through it seeming no more out of place in the setting than the rustling of leaves or the calling of birds.

Even was leaning back as well, looking relaxed and a bit lost in his own head at the moment, a rare moment of serenity when he wasn’t laughing or teasing Isak or coming up with some wild idea. He looked like a sculpture, Isak mused, like one of those men carved out of stone that he’d seen in textbooks and museums, but one that had come to life, warm with blood and moving in fluid pushes and pulls of his arms, the muscles there clearly working diligently.

They passed by a turtle sunbathing on a floating log, which Isak pointed out excitedly, proceeding to tell Even which species it was and explain to him how their shells were actually fused with their spines. Even listened with interest, smiling a smile that Isak couldn’t decipher.

“I would love to do a painting of this scene,” Even sighed, looking around them. He leaned back, making a frame with his fingers and squinting through it, putting Isak right in the middle.

“With a figure in the foreground, framed by those weeping willows,” he said with a cheeky grin. “I would call it… _’Young Man in Repose._ ’”

Isak blushed and squirmed a little, rolling his eyes to hide how the words and the attention made him feel.

Before he could change the subject, he was startled by a sudden splash in the water next to him, making him jump, causing the boat to sway worryingly.

“It’s just a fish, Isak,” Even said, laughing, before another splash came, larger, and chaos erupted. The fish – slimy, dark grey and surprisingly large – jumped out of the water and flopped into their boat, right next to Isak’s foot, making him shriek and scramble to get away from it, leaping to his feet. The boat wobbled, and so did Isak, and before he could correct his mistake, he was tipping backwards, too far to catch himself despite his flailing arms. As if in slow motion, Even leapt forwards, trying to grab Isak and keep him from falling, but the transfer of Even’s weight to the same side of the boat just made it tilt farther, until Isak was tumbling backwards into the water with a splash, followed by Even as the boat flipped completely over.

Coughing and sputtering, Isak treaded water, shaking out his hair and wiping his eyes. A moment later, Even popped up to the surface as well, spitting out a mouthful of river water and pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. Their eyes met for a beat, both stunned, and then they broke out into laughter, growing more and more hysterical until there were tears in both their eyes.

“I _told_ you!” Isak managed to get out through his laughter, which only spurred Even to laugh harder, throwing his head back.

“What, there’s nothing wrong with getting a little wet!” he said, flipping onto his back and floating, backstroking in a circle around Isak. “As long as we’re here, we might as well take advantage of it.” He kicked his legs and shot away through the water, then came back with a broad breast stroke, swimming back and forth playfully, trying to goad Isak into joining him.

Isak narrowed his eyes at Even skeptically, glancing back at their upturned boat, bobbing pathetically on the surface. When he turned back, Even had disappeared. The water was too opaque to see where he’d gone, and Isak spun around, looking for bubbles or ripples on the surface that would reveal his position, but he couldn’t track him.

“Even, this isn’t funny,” he complained, bracing himself.

With a gurgle, Even broke the surface of the water right in front of him, only a few inches away, popping up and making Isak jump back in surprise, even though he’d known it was coming.

Even laughed while catching his breath. “You’re quite easy to startle,” he observed. Isak glared, scoffing.

“It’s called being prepared. I’m always ready to jump into action.”

“Oh, is that so?” Even laughed, his eyes glimmering playfully, squinted into little half-moons from his smile.

“Yeah, it is,” Isak responded, and gave in, starting to swim, picking a direction and paddling off.

Even followed him, floating on his back. It was fun, Isak couldn’t deny it. It had been a long time since he’d been swimming, even longer since he’d done it just for fun like this, playing around on warm summer days in the harbor with Jonas.

“Do you often come into situations where you need to make use of your razor-sharp fight or flight responses?” Even continued, swimming lazily alongside him with a mischievous smirk.

“Maybe I do,” Isak shrugged, keeping up the game. “How do you know my life isn’t rife with danger?”

Now it was Even’s turn to scoff. “That cushy mansion you live in says otherwise.”

Isak opened his mouth in mock-offense, narrowing his eyes at Even and getting ready with a comeback. Instead, he was struck by a sudden wave of playfulness, and before he could question it, he was raising his hand to the surface of the water and splashing Even right in the face.

Even gaped in shock for a moment, Isak about to backtrack and apologize when he broke into a huge grin and splashed him right back, two-handed, soaking him thoroughly. With a gasp, Isak stared for a moment and the next thing he knew, they were splashing each other back and forth, dissolving into giggles, getting water up their noses and trying to dodge each other’s attacks.

When they finally called a truce, they were both out of breath and nearly horse from laughter. Isak was pretty sure he had swallowed an unacceptable amount of river water, and when he glanced over to the rowboat, still upturned and now a ways down the river from them, he was reminded that they should really probably deal with that.

With a grimace, he nodded over to it, drawing Even’s attention to follow his gaze.

“Oh. Right,” Even deadpanned.

It took both of them and quite a bit of wrangling to finally get the rowboat back upright, and when they did, it had a fair bit of water weighing it down that they had to tediously scoop out until it was buoyant enough to stay afloat under their weight.

When they finally did, they faced the problem of getting back in the boat from inside the water, prompting Even to use some of the roots sticking out of the riverbank to hoist himself up until he was high enough to maneuver himself into the boat, ending up falling into it fairly ungracefully. Instead of letting Isak try the same thing, Even insisted on pulling him up into the boat, reaching down and grabbing Isak by the hand and upper arm. It ended up being harder than Even apparently expected; Isak was pretty tall, not to mention waterlogged, so he was heavy. They struggled with it for a minute, Isak kicking his legs to try to help, internally reflecting on how ridiculous this must have looked, until Even gave one last heave and hoisted him up into the boat, the only problem being that he overshot it and ended up losing his balance, falling on his back with Isak toppling on top of him.

Isak got the wind knocked out of him when he landed sprawled on Even’s chest, freezing when he found himself nearly completely draped on top of him, their faces only inches away. The proximity stole his breath and even when his lungs had recovered, he couldn’t move for a moment. Even was staring back at him, eyes wide, mouth parted slightly. When Isak recovered himself and quickly scrambled away back into his own personal space, he was sliding into a panic about the strange moment that had just passed between them, but then Even sat himself up and started laughing heartily, and Isak felt the tension in him melt away.

“That wasn’t how I had planned that to go,” Even said through his laughter, which Isak was now joining in on, finding pretty much everything about Even contagious.

“I think I bruised my tailbone,” he groaned, wincing theatrically and rubbing at his lower back.

Isak just shook his head, burying his face in his hands as he laughed.

As the sun began its descent towards the horizon, it became clear that they had been fooling around for longer than they probably should have, and it was time to head back to the rest of the world. It took some effort to row the boat back upstream – Isak insisted that they leave it back where they found it – and they struggled with tying a strong enough knot to keep it secure before they climbed their way back up the riverbank and onto solid ground.

After they walked back through the field, Even picking up his discarded things along the way, and down the forest path back to the main road, they stood in the middle of the dirt road and said goodbye, parting ways.

Isak walked home slowly, his gait ambling, kicking loose rocks ahead of him and smiling to himself. It had been an eventful day, which started out bad and ended quite differently. He and Even were friends now, or at least he thought they were. Frolicking around in a river didn’t seem like something mere acquaintances would do together, anyway.

The sun was almost set, and Isak was thinking about Even. He wasn’t trying to deny it this time, nor was he analyzing why his mind was going where it did.

He wondered where Even was going, where he would spend his night. He wondered about Even’s friends, who they were and what they did together. He wondered if there was a girl he was courting, or one waiting for him back in Amsterdam. The thought made his stomach twist, and he shook it off.

When he walked up the path to his front door, he was still floating along on the high of the day. Turning the key in the lock with a click, he let the door swing open, and was met with silence. Something about it set him on edge right away, and he felt himself tense, his good mood dissipating. A clang came from inside somewhere, it sounded like the kitchen, followed by the distinct sound of breaking glass, and Isak’s heart sank. He braced himself, taking a deep breath and stepping inside, closing the door behind him and venturing inside with heavy steps.

“Mamma?” he called, holding on to a sliver of hope that it was just the cook dropping something, that it wasn’t what he thought.

There was light spilling out into the hallway from the doorway to the kitchen, and Isak approached it slowly, heart pounding with anxiety. He heard a faint sound that sounded like a voice, and when he got closer, he recognized it as quiet crying. Turning the corner, he found a familiar picture, the one he had been dreading.

His mother was on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, surrounded by broken glass and plates and holding a crushed bunch of flowers in her clenched fist. It broke his heart, every time, and he felt his own eyes well up with tears.

He scanned the room quickly – no blood; that was good. He knew he had to work quickly to get her calmed down to avoid any further damage.

When she noticed him, she let out an angry scream, throwing the flowers at his feet. Isak jumped back reflexively, feeling the desire to run and hide kick in, like he’d done so many times as a child when his mother was like this. But he wasn’t a child anymore, and it was his job to help.

Marianne picked up a broken half of a plate that was lying at her feet and held it up as Isak walked towards her carefully, holding up his hands and speaking to her in a low, soothing voice.

“Mamma, it’s me, okay? Everything’s okay. You’re home, and you’re fine.”

Stepping carefully to avoid the sharp shards all over the floor, Isak managed to get close enough to her to take the plate out of her hands, which she let go of easily. She was staring at him with wide eyes, still seeming on the verge of breaking down again, so Isak put a hand on her arm and just kept talking, waiting for her to calm down enough that he could lead her out of the room without either of them getting harmed.

It was a while later when Isak was finally able to shut the door of her bedroom behind it, and he only made it a few steps down the hallway before he slumped against the wall in exhaustion. He let the tears slip onto his cheeks now, his head falling back against the wall with a thump as he let out a heavy sigh.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Sometimes she was better than others, and it had been a while since she had had a breakdown like this. But he never forgot the panic, the fear, the dread that gripped him every time she did. He felt terrible for her that she had to go through these periods where her mind was betraying her, when it made her so scared and detached from reality. Selfishly, he felt sorry for himself, too, that he was the one who had to pick up the pieces.

Right now, mostly he was just tired.

The excitement and joy of the day all but forgotten, Isak dragged his feet back to the kitchen, his eyelids and his heart heavy, and got to the work of cleaning up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Even’s eyes kept glancing back and forth between him and the painting, sharp and analyzing, capturing snapshots of Isak’s face and transferring them to the canvas. Isak wasn’t used to being this close up to Even when he was looking at him so intently, and it was making him feel like his skin was tingling, like he was covered in tiny iron shavings and there was a magnet somewhere nearby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say about this chapter is: FINALLY
> 
> Writing's moving along well on this so I'm going to switch to posting once a week, so look for the next one next Tuesday! In case you're curious about the end product, at this point it looks like I'll end up with 80-90k words and around 14 chapters. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you all for the feedback so far!

It was almost a week before Isak’s next session with Even. During that time, his mother improved, with Isak looking after her and making sure she was eating and getting rest in bed. As she improved, his mood slowly recovered as well, helped along by an afternoon spent strolling the canals with Jonas, talking and laughing about things they had done when they were younger.

It felt like old times, and Isak felt close to Jonas in a way that made him want to empty his mind to him, offload all the thoughts clambering for his attention. He knew what he wanted – he wanted to tell Jonas about Even, but he hesitated, stopped himself. He didn’t know how to bring Even up in a way that wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary, that wouldn’t give away how he was thinking about him more than he was supposed to be. He couldn’t exactly just pipe up and tell him that _there’s this painter and he’s so interesting and talented and sometimes he smiles so hard his eyes almost disappear._

Instead, Isak opened up about his mamma’s recent episode, and talking to Jonas about it felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. Jonas always had a way of doing that. In return, Isak listened to Jonas talk about how he just wished he could get Eva to give him the time of day. By the end of it, they both left feeling lighter.

This time, Even’s return felt like something to look forward to, a reprieve from the recent stress of caring for his mother, rather than a source of anxiety and nerves.

He greeted him at the door with a smile, and the initial sight of Even felt like a breath of fresh air, like he was settling in to an afternoon curled up with a favorite book. He had worn a bit of a nicer outfit today, had looked at himself in the mirror in the morning with a critical eye, trying to see what Even would see when he was painting him.

Once they got set up, Isak getting into his position and Even making small adjustments to make him match the painting precisely as always, Even got to work, making small talk as he did. They talked about last week’s escapade, and laughed about Even’s roommate’s confused reaction to him coming back home drenching wet. Isak filed that bit of information about Even’s roommate away, telling himself to remember to ask more about him later now that the door had been cracked open.

Isak relaxed thoroughly once they started talking, found himself sinking into the chair a little, enough that Even had to remind him a couple times with a smirk to sit up so he would be in the right position. At the beginning, it had struck him as annoying, tedious, a needless torture to be stuck still in a chair for hours while someone painted him. But now, because that someone was Even, he was finding it rather enjoyable.

Most of Isak’s positive memories of being at home were still tinged with a bit of loneliness; with his father working and his mother occupied he usually entertained himself, reading in the library or daydreaming up in his room. But this was better. Even brought something different into their beautiful, but cold, home. It was an effect akin to starting a fire in the fireplace in winter, or opening the windows to let the air in on a sunny summer day. The company and camaraderie was a welcome change, and Isak allowed himself to bask in the warmth.

This time, it was mostly small talk, exchanging pleasantries and talking about what they had been up to over the past few days. Isak left out the bits about his mother, masking the fact that she had been the main focus of his life since they had last seen each other. He didn’t want to bring the mood down, and on top of that, he was strictly not supposed to speak of her affliction with anyone. It was an unspoken rule, but he knew that it would be like the end of the world to her if anyone she considered important found out. That was why Jonas and Eva were the only people he could talk to about it. Still, he felt like he could trust Even, if he did tell him. He _knew_ he could trust him, somehow. And something about being in this library with Even, alone together in silence for hours, made him want to share everything in his mind with Even, every pain and joy that took up an important space in his heart.

During a lull in their conversation, Isak watched Even work, chuckling silently at the way he stuck his tongue a tiny bit out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on a particular area. It was mid-afternoon, and the sunlight filled the room from a low angle, creating a dramatic lighting that painted Even’s face in strongly contrasting light and shadow, highlighting its angles and elegant lines.

“We’re lucky,” Even spoke up, still squinting at the painting in front of him, not looking up, “this is perfect lighting for this today.”

It was as if Even had been able to read Isak’s thoughts, and he tilted his head to the side curiously.

“What are you working on today?” he asked.

“Probably my favorite part,” Even smiled. “Well, maybe second favorite.”

“And what’s that?”

“Right now I’m adding in the patterns of light and shadow in the portrait, and starting to build them up. This is the most important part of the painting. It’s what brings it to life, gives it depth. I love watching that come together.”

Isak nodded, humming. As much as he usually felt a bit weird looking at a portrait of himself, the way Even talked about it made it seem more like art than just an egotistic indulgence of his mother’s.

“Here, come over, I’ll show you,” Even beckoned.

A bit confused, Isak hesitantly unfolded himself from his carefully-held position and got up, walking over to Even’s side of the room while Even pulled out the stool that was technically supposed to be for him, but that he never used, preferring to stand while he worked.

“Sit.”

Settling down on the stool, Isak got his first view of the painting’s progress in a while. It was more fleshed-out now, more of a rough likeness of him than a ghostly shadow. The blank spaces had been filled in, leaving much less empty canvas showing through, and the features on his face were sweeps of skin-toned paint, his hair curling strokes of gold.

Next to him, Even mixed the paints on his palette. He hadn’t gotten to see this part of the process yet, so he leaned over to peer at Even swirling a small, angled knife through two dollops of paint, one white and one a deep, rich brown. The glistening, oily paints mixed together, reconstituting into a single swath of lighter brown. Then, he dipped into a different color, this one a dull sort of yellow, taking only a small bit on the tip of the knife and adding it to the mix. Even examined the result, humming softly to himself and continuing to adjust it with small additions of one color or the other until he had apparently achieved a delicate balance of tones that he was happy with.

“See, I’ve already blocked off the general areas that I’m going to make light and dark. Now, I’m going back over them and adding the particular shades, creating a base that I’ll add on to.”

He dipped his brush in the paint and started applying it confidently down the shadowed side of Isak’s neck in the painting. Isak marveled at the way his movements were so delicate, careful, despite being so planned and deliberate. His hand moved fluidly, with elegant twists of his wrist. To Isak, it seemed like magic.

“Every good painting needs at least some contrast, an interplay between light and dark,” Even began to explain. “It’s called chiaroscuro.”

“That’s an Italian word, isn’t it?” Isak asked, recognizing the components from his studies of the romance languages.

Even nodded. “The bold contrasts add feeling and drama to a work of art, and they help it to look alive, like it’s jumping out of the page instead of just flat. I won’t make it too harsh here; a portrait isn’t the place for that, but we’ll get just the right balance.”

Even stopped suddenly, turning to Isak and looking him up and down, which kind of made Isak want to throw a blanket over his head.

“It will be best, actually, if I can see your face closer up when I’m adding the shadows and highlights to it, to see exactly where they fall on you in this kind of light. Here, turn around a little for me, so the light is hitting you right.”

Isak shuffled around, scooting himself on the stool until he was closer to facing the bookshelves behind Even.

“Good, now turn your head a little –“ Even reached out, almost like he was about to move Isak’s head himself, and Isak’s heart skipped a beat – but he must have turned it just the right amount himself, because Even’s hand dropped and he nodded.

Now, he turned his attention to Isak’s face, starting on his cheek, darkening it with multiple shades. Even Isak could see how it changed the painting immediately, turned it from something flat to something vibrant.

“It’s so important because, you know, without shadow, the light just becomes bland. You need dark to see how the light is beautiful. And if it were only dark, you wouldn’t be able to make out the subject; there would be no reason to look at it. You have to have a balance of both. It’s what made Caravaggio’s paintings so good.”

Isak nodded along, hanging on to Even’s words and entranced by his skilled, graceful actions. It was incredibly quiet in this secluded corner of the empty house, but Isak felt as if Even’s deep voice would be capturing his attention even in the middle of a crowded square.

Even’s eyes kept glancing back and forth between him and the painting, sharp and analyzing, capturing snapshots of Isak’s face and transferring them to the canvas. Isak wasn’t used to being this close up to Even when he was looking at him so intently, and it was making him feel like his skin was tingling, like he was covered in tiny iron shavings and there was a magnet somewhere nearby.

Every time Even’s eyes slid up to his as he was scanning his face, their eyes met for a moment and Isak looked down quickly, feeling his cheeks start to heat. He would keep his eyes glued to the floor for a minute, only for them to eventually drift back up, finding Even’s again, unable to stay away.

At some point, though, Isak stopped looking away.

The next time Even looked at him, their eyes locked and held, neither one of them breaking the gaze. Isak’s heart was beating faster, and he wondered if it was loud enough for Even to hear it.

Straightening up and putting down his palette and brush, Even turned. Taking a step forward, he stood in front of Isak, now so close that he was nearly knocking into Isak’s knees. He leaned forward slightly and reached out slowly, carefully, like you would extend your hand to feed a skittish wild animal. Isak held his breath, couldn’t possibly do anything else. It felt like slow motion, like everything was moving through thick molasses. Then, Even’s fingers brushed his temple, gingerly moving a stray curl that had fallen on his forehead and tucking it back with the rest of his hair. But when he had fixed it, his hand lingered. He didn’t pull away.

At this point, Even’s face was so close that Isak could make out each individual eyelash framing his beautiful eyes.

He was really going to need to take a breath again sometime soon.

Even looked down, their eyes meeting, both of them staring wide-eyed. It felt like there was an invisible string holding them taught together, right where they were, and neither of them moved a muscle.

Isak didn’t know quite what was happening, but he knew he wanted to hold on to this moment. It was like they were teetering on the edge of something. Maybe they would fall over, maybe not.

He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. His eyelids felt heavy, his vision almost hazy. He realized his lips were parted, his mouth hanging open slightly. His eyes slipped down, sliding over Even’s face, and he leaned almost imperceptibly forwards.

Taking a breath, Even followed Isak’s unconscious signal and slowly leaned in farther and farther, until he was so close that Isak could feel his hot breath on his cheek. Isak couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, was afraid that if he did, it would break the spell, and he would lose his courage. He kept his eyes down, flicking from Even’s cheeks to his neck and shoulders before he had the courage to land them on his lips. He was so close, but Even had stopped moving, just an agonizing inch away, waiting for Isak to make the final decision.

Isak felt like he was drunk, dizzy and buzzing and close to toppling over with longing and nerves and overwhelming _feeling_.

Tilting up his chin, he closed the last inch.

When their lips met, he gasped immediately. It was different than he could have ever expected, and better. Even pressed forwards, sealing their lips together more firmly. The hand at Isak’s temple curled into his hair, holding him carefully while he pressed his pillowy lips against Isak’s.

Isak melted into the kiss. It felt like his chest was filled with sparkling wine, bubbles rising to the top and popping. It probably only lasted seconds, but it seemed much longer before Even pulled back, just far enough to separate their lips and search Isak’s eyes. Without meaning to, Isak stretched forward as he moved back, chasing his lips, which made Even’s face split into a massive grin and a bright laugh burst out of him. Isak could only stare back at him, dazed, his head feeling light and his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He couldn’t think, or process what had happened; all he knew was that he wanted to kiss Even again.

As he flicked his eyes down to Even’s lips, slightly shiny now and unbelievably enticing, Even brought his other hand up, framing his face in both palms and holding it as he dipped back in to capture Isak’s lips.

Isak tried his best to keep up, not having had much experience with kissing, and certainly never like this. Even was gentle, moving his lips softly against Isak’s, his hands warm where they cradled Isak’s face. It was a feeling unlike anything else, and he knew instantly that he loved it unequivocally, that he would dream about it, that he wanted to feel it over and over again.

Everything was slow and quiet, like the whole world was focused in on the two of them at this one point in time. Isak was floating, he was sure of it. Involuntarily, he felt his throat hum with a pleased, content noise, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He felt the slightest sweep of Even’s tongue along his lower lip, and it made his heart jump in his chest and his breath catch.

When Even pulled away again, letting them both catch their breaths – Isak hadn’t even noticed that his lungs were burning, but they were – he leaned his forehead against Isak’s, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones and letting out a breathless laugh of joyful disbelief.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first moment I saw you,” he whispered, eyes gleaming.

Isak was speechless, just panting and blinking up at him, trying to get his brain to catch up.

“Wow,” he breathed, and Even chuckled, placing another quick kiss on his lips. He was surprised, to say the least, though maybe he shouldn’t have been. It was pretty clear that Even had been having the same sort of feelings that Isak had, if the way he had just kissed him was any evidence. Still, it was hard for Isak to believe that Even saw something special enough in him to have been pursuing him from the beginning. With the way Even was looking at him now, though, smiling fondly and running his fingers through Isak’s hair, tucking little stray pieces behind his ear and tracing over his cheeks and jaw, it was pretty clear that he did.

Clearing his throat, Isak tried to gather himself a little so as not to come off as a complete fool. “So…what do we do now?” he asked.

Even sighed, looking back over his shoulder to the neglected portrait. “Well, really, I should probably actually get a little more of this done, since we’ve been doing so much…not working during these sessions.” He winked, flashing Isak a grin.

With that, Even stepped back, making Isak want to reach out and grab him or whine for him to stay, but he controlled himself. For a while longer, he got back to work, laying down the deeper shades in the shadows on Isak’s likeness, and adding a few bright highlights to the places where the sun hit him. Now, every time their eyes met, there were knowing glances and giddy, blushing giggles. Even stopped every once and a while to steal several more quick kisses along the way. At one point, he paused, just staring at Isak for a moment.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, and the compliment made Isak want to hide, but he was learning to resist the impulse.

They hesitated inside the door, Isak staring at his feet and chew his lip, trying to think of an excuse to keep Even there. Even was standing close to him, smiling and waiting patiently for Isak to let him leave.

“So…” Isak began, looking up to meet Even’s eyes shyly, “when will you be back?”

He tried not to make it so obvious in his tone that he was hoping the answer was _very, very soon_ , but he was probably unsuccessful, judging by the smile on Even’s face.

“Saturday afternoon,” he said. That was three days from now. Not ideal, but soon enough. Isak nodded, wondering if he was going to get a kiss goodbye, but he didn’t have to wonder for long.

Even reached up to cup his cheek and stepped forward, crowding into him, so he could kiss him once, softly, before he was out the door with a lingering look.

For a while, Isak was just standing frozen at the door, unsure what to do next, how to break out of this trance, or if he even wanted to. He ended up heading back the library, the room still cloaked in the memory of what had just happened there. Grabbing a book at random from one of the shelves and finding his favorite blanket hung near the fireplace, he curled up in an armchair beside the window. He probably didn’t manage to actually read more than a few words; instead, he was stuck daydreaming, smiling to himself giddily.

There wasn’t a moment of panic, or realization of what this all meant, after it had happened. Whatever anxiety and fear he had been feeling before regarding his feelings about Even, about the fact that he was looking at a boy this way, that he thought about him in ways that he wasn’t supposed to – now that he had kissed Even, all of that uncertainty was gone. He knew for sure, now. Kissing Even had felt so wonderful, so undeniably _right_ , that there was no room left for self-doubt or denial. He had feelings for Even – at the very least he wanted to kiss him more, spend time with him, learn everything there possibly was to know about him – and whatever implications that had for his life, whatever repercussions he knew there might be for feeling that way, he was just going to have to face them, because his feelings weren’t going to change. And after feeling what it was like to experience that with Even, he didn’t want them to.

So he felt strangely calm, despite his world having been just turned on end. He couldn’t bring himself to worry when any thought of Even just lit him up with excitement and happiness. Right now, all he wanted was to go find Even and get him to kiss him breathless again. He would figure out the rest later.

It was Friday afternoon, and Isak was walking briskly down the street, on his way to meet Eva and Jonas for an outing to a travelling fair that was passing through. Isak wasn’t really one for that kind of thing, but Eva had been excited about it and Jonas had been pleading with his eyes for Isak to go along with it so that he could spend more time with Eva, so, being the saint that he was, Isak agreed.

He took a deep breath of the fresh morning air, his feet kicking up dust on the dirt road. He let his thoughts wander, but his mind was surprisingly clear. Of course, when he did think of something, it was usually Even, but he felt content to just be, no anxious thoughts racing like they often were.

When Eva and Jonas came into view in the distance, standing next to each other at the end of the street, Isak waved and jogged over to them. After greeting them both with a hug, they turned together and headed off towards the fairground, set up near the edge of the city center. They took it slowly, strolling unhurriedly side by side down the middle of the road, chatting and laughing and listening to the latest gossip from Eva. Isak didn’t have much to contribute, seeing as most of his time and thoughts over the past week had been occupied by a certain handsome painter that he couldn’t very well bring up with his friends without it seeming out of the ordinary. Still, Eva and Jonas noticed his good mood, the uncharacteristic lack of grumpiness and reduced frequency of eye-rolling. At one point, Eva even commented that he had “a glow about him,” which made him blush and brush it off with a scoff.

The fair was intense, a cacophony of sounds and colors, and Isak was immediately reminded of why he didn’t go to these things. It was overwhelming to say the least, too much sensory stimulation to be comfortable unless you were completely numb to it. Eva and Jonas were loving it, gasping and taking it all in with glee, darting around and pointing out all of the food stalls, their strong, savory scents permeating the air, the artists with their brightly colored scarves and cloaks hanging, the jesters with their loud, boisterous behavior, trying to get the attention of the fairgoers.

Isak sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and bracing himself for an hour or so of tolerating this nonsense. He reminded himself that it was for the sake of his friends – and it seemed to be working; when he found Eva and Jonas in the crowd, they were standing close to each other, watching a glassblower work, and Eva’s eyes were sparkling as she laughed at something Jonas had said.

Smiling to himself, Isak decided to give them some space to themselves and went to explore the maze of busy corridors weaving between the merchants’ stalls and performers. There was an enticing, warm and spicy scent that drew Isak in until he came upon a cart selling hot, freshly roasted spiced nuts. He bought a small bag of them, dropping a couple of coins into the vendor’s palm with a clink and munching on them as he continued strolling along. He hadn’t noticed before that he was hungry, but now that he had food his stomach was grumbling, and he made a note to convince Eva and Jonas to get a real meal when he found them again.

Rounding a corner, Isak’s attention was captured by the orange glow and bright flashes of a fire thrower performing for a small crowd. His eyes followed closely, drawn in as the performer spun his flaming torches and launched them into the air, the crowd gasping every time he caught them.

He stood watching, mesmerized, until the fire thrower finished with a bow and a flourish, grinning to the crowd and holding out a hat for tips. When he did, Isak blinked himself back to attention, quickly scanning around himself while thinking about where to head next.

The crowd was thick, people of all sorts milling about, and about as many different distractions as could be imagined filled Isak’s vision, but despite all this, his eyes caught on a familiar sight, and he did a double take.

There Even was, standing behind a stall just across from him and staring straight at Isak with a bright smile. Isak gasped is disbelief, a smile growing on his own face at the happy coincidence. He looked different from usual, dressed sharply in dark blue rather than his painter’s clothes, but still familiar. They continued staring at each other, but neither one moved. Even fixed him with a mischievous look and raised an eyebrow, as if in challenge. He broke their gaze, turning back to examining the jewelry laid out on the table in front of him, feigning interest, but Isak could still see his smirk.

It struck Isak as strange, seeing Even in public like this; almost wrong. He was so used to having Even all to himself, to their interactions being in their own little bubble, no one watching. So it felt exciting, and sort of dangerous, acknowledging each other out here amongst all these people.

Deciding to play along, Isak meandered over to the stall Even was browsing, looking around and pretending to just happen to end up standing next to him, keeping his head down like he was thoroughly interested in the little glass pendants laid out in front of him.

He could feel Even’s gaze on him, sensing him turn his head in his peripheral vision, but he resisted looking up, his cheeks heating already. Shooting a tight smile at the old woman sitting behind the table, watching them, Isak cleared his throat as Even shuffled slightly closer to him, so their shoulders were almost bumping together.

Another customer came up beside them, taking up the vendor’s attention and giving them some room to talk more comfortably.

“Hey,” Even’s voice rumbled, and Isak could hear the smile in it.

“Hey.” Isak replied, a giggle bubbling up in his throat. Feeling brave, he chanced a glance over at Even, who was already looking at him.

“It’s strange seeing you without a brush in your hands,” he teased, and Even snorted.

“Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of my work.”

“Hmm, I thought artists were supposed to just spend all their days agonizing over their great masterpieces?” Isak quipped.

Even fixed him with an intense gaze, one that probably made Isak’s whole body flush. “Well, unfortunately for me, I only get to see my masterpiece every few days. But it looks like today I got lucky.”

With that, he let his gaze drop, then dragged it up from Isak’s feet back to his face, where Isak was probably gaping like a fish, and left him with a wink as he turned on his heel and swept off into the crowd.

Isak wandered through the fairground on a high, hoping at some point he would run into Jonas and Eva but not caring enough to search for them. He couldn’t believe he and Even had just _flirted_ in _public_. It was a rush of adrenaline, and that combined with the excitement of seeing Even and the smug knowledge that he and Even had this secret that no one else knew, that was right under their noses – it made for an intoxicating feeling.

It was a while later, beginning to grow dark as the sun started to set, when Isak felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Jonas, with Eva in tow.

“Food,” Jonas stated bluntly, and Isak nodded in agreement.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

With their meat pies in hand, they found a little corner to settle down in, leaning up against a currently-abandoned apple cart off out of the center of the fray. The fires were lit, now, standing torches scattered around the fair to light the area as the dark descended, adding warmth as the night grew a little chilly.

The first couple of minutes, their mouths were too full to talk, but before long Eva and Jonas started regaling Isak with what he had missed while they were apart at the fair. Apparently, Jonas had volunteered to take part in a competition that a jester was recruiting people for, and ended up nearly getting in a fight.

“I did not!” Jonas protested.

“You did too!” Eva insisted, laughing. “It was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.” She rolled her eyes. “Just because the man ‘was looking at me _inappropriately_ ,’ whatever that means.”

Jonas stared down into his pie and grumbled something incoherent, probably trying to defend himself, but by the flattered smile Eva was trying to hide, he didn’t need to.

“What did you get up to?” she asked Isak, changing the subject.

Before he answered, Isak had to decide how much he was going to say of the truth. He had another pang in his chest again, a strong desire to share the new excitement in his life with them, to gush about how he had finally kissed someone and actually _liked_ it, how his lips were so soft. But he knew enough to know that he wasn’t supposed to do that, so he didn’t.

“Uh, not much, just walked around, tried not to get into fights with performers…”

Jonas glared at him, which would have been more intimidating if he didn’t have pie-crust crumbs all over his lips from where he had just taken his last bite.

Isak snorted, pointing them out, and Eva laughed at him, but used the hem of her skirt to wipe his face clean.

Once they’d all finished their meals, Jonas reached into his bag with a mischievous smirk.

“Wait until you see what I’ve got.” He pulled out a small green bottle of wine brandishing it with a grin, and Eva cheered and clapped.

They all passed it back and forth between them, taking swigs of the dark liquid. It was strong and heady, and Isak couldn’t help making a face every time he took a gulp. As the alcohol settled in their stomachs and flowed through their veins, they leaned back against the apple cart, nearly lying down, and ended up leaning against each other in a little pile.

Isak was giggling at whatever it was Jonas was saying, he couldn’t be completely sure. He was starting to feel warm despite the declining temperature, and his limbs were feeling pleasantly heavy.

Along with his body, his mind was starting to loosen as well, some of his worries slipping away like they had never mattered to begin with. He wasn’t drunk, still perfectly lucid, it was just that he was comfortable and content and things felt a bit slower than usual, the world glowing around the edges.

At a lull in the conversation, which Isak honestly could not have told you the topic of, he started talking.

“My parents have hired a painter to do a portrait of me,” he stated, and Eva and Jonas turned to listen, Jonas already having heard his complaints. “Well, mother mostly, of course. It’s the fashionable thing to have done these days, you know.”

“How is it?” Jonas asked beside him.

“It takes forever. And you just have to sit there, perfectly still. But I don’t mind it.”

“Ugh, my mother has been talking about having a portrait painted of me, too,” Eva groaned. “I hope she doesn’t go through with it. That sounds terribly boring.”

Isak shrugged. “It’s not. Well, it would be, but…” He hesitated, on the edge of taking another step forward. “Well, the painter – his name is Even. He’s actually pretty interesting, about our age, and we talk a lot while he’s working.”

There was a pause, and Jonas shifted to look at him more directly. They made eye contact, and Isak was scared for a moment by the curious, thoughtful look on his friend’s face, but then it disappeared as he hummed and nodded.

“That sounds nice,” he said.

“It is,” Isak agreed, feeling warm with the memories of his time spent with Even. “I guess we’re kind of…we’ve become friends now.” It was the best way he could think to explain it to them.

“Will your parents be okay with that?” Eva asked, propping herself up on her elbow to look at Isak. “I mean, you being friends with a painter, with someone who works for them?”

It was a fair question; Eva knew all about his parents’ idiosyncrasies and over-consciousness of social roles and propriety. He thought about it for a minute, imagining how his father would react, what his mother would say, if he told them he and Even were friends and would be spending time together outside of their professional interactions.

“I don’t know, I think they would be okay with it. At least pappa wouldn’t really care. They do think that being an artist is a respectable profession, and even though he isn’t an aristocrat, mamma will probably think it would look good to be friends with an artist, make us seem more cultured.”

He hoped he was right. The idea of being able to actually spend time with Even out in the world, not having to hide the fact that he enjoyed his company, was very appealing. He hadn’t thought about what would happen once the portrait was done, and he didn’t want to.

“Well you should introduce us to him,” Eva said, yawning. “I bet artists are so much fun. It’s got to be better than listening to the girls my mother wants me to be around drabbling on about which boys they’re going to dance with next.”

She rolled her eyes, throwing an arm over them and yawning again, and Jonas laughed.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to get to sleep. C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He was feeling jittery, light and bouncy with anticipation. It made him feel powerful and desirable, knowing that Even was in that shed waiting for him, probably just as excited and keyed-up as he was.   
> It had been far too long since he last had Even’s lips on his, and that was exactly what he intended to get."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter :) Hope everyone's having a wonderful week!

A firm knock sounded on the front door, and Isak, having been perfectly placed waiting right inside, dashed to open it.

Immediately, he held a finger up to his lips, causing Even’s greeting to die in his throat and his eyebrow to raise in question. Isak grabbed his hand and pulled him through the door in a rush, kicking it closed behind them before dragging Even along until they slipped into a small closet in the front hallway.

“What…?” Even started as Isak closed the door behind them, leaving a sliver of light so they could see, but he was stopped when Isak spun around and planted a kiss on his lips, standing up on his tiptoes.

When he pulled back, Even was grinning down at him, his hands moving to Isak’s hips to hold him steady.

“What was that for?” he chuckled. 

“My mother’s home today,” Isak explained in a whisper. “But…I just still wanted to kiss a little?”

Even’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss each of Isak’s cheeks in turn.

“Yeah, we can still kiss a little.”

For a moment, Isak forgot they were hiding in a closet as Even kissed away their surroundings, winding his arms around Isak’s back and holding him close. The excitement of the first time hadn’t worn off, and he still felt a happy burst of adrenaline as he kissed back enthusiastically.

Maybe it was the darkness, or the safety of being hidden away, but this time, Even got bolder, swiping his tongue over Isak’s lower lip until he convinced him to part them, allowing Even to lick into his mouth a little, exploring carefully. Isak was aware that this was a part of kissing, but he had never experienced it before. He slid his hands up to Even’s shoulders, treating them as a solid point to hang on to, as he felt himself leaning further in.

After far too short of a time, they had to break apart, failing a couple of times to stop the kissing before they finally separated for real, panting quietly into the dark.

Clearing his throat, Isak stepped back and straightened his shirt, fixed his hair, hoping he wasn’t so flushed and flustered that it would look suspicious anyway.

When he looked back up at Even, he was smirking.

“Was that to your satisfaction?” he asked, and Isak rolled his eyes and held back a giggle.

“Yes, thank you.”

Cracking the door open, Isak peeked outside, carefully sticking his head out and looking up and down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before pulling Even back out of the closet and rushing him out the door, all while Even was looking at him bemusedly.

Even waited outside the door for a couple of seconds, then knocked again. This time, Isak opened the door fully and greeted Even (loudly, and for his mother’s benefit). Laughing, Even played along, exchanging pleasantries with him before stepping inside, sneaking Isak a conspiratory wink as he passed him.

Sitting for the portrait for Even after what had happened between them was harder than Isak expected. It was almost like their very first session together, when Isak was antsy and flustered and constantly blushing. It was difficult to sit still and behave when everything was so new and exciting, when all he wanted to do was launch himself across the room and start kissing Even again.

Even seemed to be able to read his thoughts, sending him meaningful, amused glances and raising his eyebrows at him intermittently.

“Is something the matter?” he asked eventually, smirking smugly.

Isak glared, knowing he couldn’t give a real retort because his mother may be in earshot, and everything he _wanted_ to say would definitely not be suited for her ears. So he bit his tongue, shifting instead to a different strategy, giving a sweet, saccharine smile and batting his eyelashes.

“No, of course not,” he said, cloying and overly innocent. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, but apparently it was working, because Even stopped teasing and cleared his throat, focusing on his work studiously for the rest of the time. 

Isak dreamed about Even that night. It wasn’t like the last time Even had woven his way into Isak’s subconscious thoughts; there was no naked skin, no wandering hands and hot breath. This time, it was far more innocent. They were in a boat, lying side by side, tucked into each other and comfortably couched in a nest of blankets. The boat was floating down a wide river, so calm its surface was glassy, reflecting the salmon-pink of the sunset-painted sky. Even was humming and playing with Isak’s hair, looping the curls around his long fingers, and Isak was in heaven.

Sometimes, there are days that feel like they should be coming straight out of a painting, a delicate one filled with light and pastel colors. They feel like a whimsical poem, like the floating passages in the middle of a piano concerto where the keys are struck so softly it feels like the notes just lift themselves calmly into the air and linger there.

This was one of those days, at least it felt like it to Isak, and its tranquility was surprising considering the context. It was a quiet mid-morning, one of the last warm days of the end of August, the summer insisting on holding on just a moment longer. The sunlight was dappled across their large garden, weaving its way through the leaves of the trees, branches overhanging and weighed down with the burden of their leaves and over-ripe fruits. This was one of the few times these days that Isak truly enjoyed his mother’s company, when they were in the garden together, picking the prettiest late-blooming flowers and plucking off dead leaves to help them live a little bit longer before autumn came.

Despite her high-class insistence on having most things done for her, his mother maintained the desire to be involved in the upkeep of the garden herself. The hard manual work was left for the gardeners, of course, but she liked to spend time there, watering and paying attentive care to her plants, and of course reaping the rewards.

There were wicker trays of food lying on the grass that had been brought out for them, sweet honey cakes and a basket of cheeses and grapes that they snacked on as they worked, laughing together as the sweet scent attracted some of the bees that were collected on the flowers.

It was a true state of calm that Isak didn’t often associate with his mother, and he appreciated it when he got it. Everything around them was lovely and soft, from the light breeze carried through the warm air, the almost too-sweet scent of the roses and peonies, to the loose white linen of his clothing, a far cry from the stiff materials he usually had to wear out in public.

Isak was sitting cross-legged in the grass, methodically shaving the thorns off of a bunch of roses with a pocketknife because his mother wanted to hand them out to the children at church. She was perched on a stool that had been brought outside, plucking old leaves off of the stems of the hollyhocks, careful not to disturb the bees humming around the flowers and smiling at them as she watched them work.

“How is it going with the portrait, Isak?” She asked, speaking up after they had been in a long stretch of silence and almost startling Isak when she did.

Isak stiffened reflexively, wary of the topic for obvious reasons. But after a momentary pause, not long enough to make his mother think anything was wrong, he decided there was no reason he couldn’t talk to her about it, as long as he left out certain parts—specifically the kissing part.

“It’s going well, I think. I’ve seen the progress a few times and it’s very good. Even’s very talented.”

His mother hummed in agreement and nodded, not looking away from her flowers. “He is a promising young artist. That’s why we chose him, of course.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t been complaining about it more,” she continued after a minute. “You were quite opposed to the idea at first,” she noted.

He couldn’t really argue with that, but he also wasn’t quite sure how to explain why he’d changed his tune. Shrugging, he picked at the stem of the rose in his hand, hissing when he accidentally poked his fingertip on a thorn he had missed.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s tedious, sitting still for hours like that, but…I actually. Well. We started having conversations while he was working and it – it helped.”

At that, his mother paused, and a tiny frown appeared between her eyebrows. Isak watched her carefully, almost wanting to jump in and take it back, whatever it was that was making her think twice, but he didn’t. She made a thoughtful noise, still not looking at Isak, and nodded, as if accepting what he had said, which made his shoulders relax a bit.

For a few minutes, they continued to work in silence, until she continued as if the conversation had never paused.

“And these conversations with Mr. Bech Næsheim – you find they distract you? Intellectually stimulate you?”

It was a fair assessment, so he nodded. “Yes. He knows a lot, about a lot of things. It’s interesting.”

He tried to maintain a casual tone about his words, like he was talking about just any subject, but it seemed that his mother, always perceptive, caught on to the sincerity behind his words.

She paused, leaning back from her flowers and straightening her back before fixing her gaze on Isak with an unreadable, evaluating stare. After a long moment, during which Isak felt himself shrink under her attention, so much more clear and targeted than he was used to, she hummed to herself thoughtfully.

“You like him,” she observed. Isak didn’t respond, but she wasn’t seeking confirmation. “You’re becoming friends.” She took another long moment to think that over, turning the concept over in her head, looking to the side and gazing into nothing.

Isak wasn’t sure if he should break in, deny what she was saying or defend himself, even though making friends with Even itself wasn’t necessarily something damning. He still wasn’t sure she would approve, and if she didn’t, it would make things much more difficult. Whatever he should or shouldn’t do didn’t really matter because he seemed to be frozen, heart beating hard against the wall of his chest, his face stuck in a mask of indifference.

Finally, she hummed to herself once more, and nodded. “That’s good,” she concluded, really talking more to herself than Isak. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding at the sound of her approval. She turned back around on her stool and picked up her work again, apparently done addressing Isak directly.

“He is below your station,” she mused, “but…it will look good to have a rising artist as a friend of the family. Make you look more cultured. We really should have been contributing more to patronage of the arts this whole time; Mari already had her home chapel decorated by that man from Italy with – what is that called? When they paint the wet plaster?”

“Uh – fresco, mamma,” he assisted, voice still small from the momentary panic. He remembered Even telling him about it a couple of weeks ago, going on excitedly about Michelangelo painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The pictures he painted with his words seemed as beautiful to Isak as the chapel itself must have been.

“Ah, yes – well, look at you, you really are learning about the arts! Yes, that’s good. Hmm, perhaps we can pull some strings, get him into some of the good events this fall. Of course, we’d have to provide some appropriate clothing for him, I’m sure he can’t afford anything like that, but that’s fine. Oh, and just imagine how envious Mari would be – and it would get him some exposure too, of course. There are a lot of important eyes at those parties.”

Isak suppressed the urge to groan, cringing internally at how his mother was turning this into one of her projects like this. He didn’t want Even to be another person for her to manipulate under the guise of helping them. He would have to do what he could to discourage her, protect Even from her meddling – or maybe he would actually want that? He couldn’t imagine Even in fancy dress, kissing up to a bunch of rich old men – the thought nearly made him shudder. But then again, there was a lot his family could do for Even’s career, and of course he wanted him to succeed.

Ultimately, whatever Even wanted to do, Isak would support it. And at least his mother wasn’t opposed to the idea of them being friends – having her working against them was a far worse prospect than having her try to use them for her shallow means. As annoying as her social aspirations could be, Isak knew that they were ultimately harmless to him, more of a source of nuisance and distaste than anything.

Putting that aside, Isak turned back to his work, reaching for another rose and meticulously slicing off its thorns. He couldn’t help the smile that snuck its way onto his mouth as he sat with his mother in peaceful silence, at least for now, in their garden with the sun shining down.

A few days later, when Even was scheduled to come next, both Isak’s mother and father were home, puttering about the house, so he just greeted Even at the door and lead him in, no shenanigans included.

As he sat for his portrait, he told Even about the conversation he had had with his mother, including the parts where she had started immediately scheming about how to increase his status. Even laughed good-naturedly, not seeming bothered by his mother’s patronizing implications, merely amused by her antics.

He agreed that it was good that his mother approved of them being _“friends,”_ shooting Isak a meaningful smirk at that.

“It’s a good thing, really, because at some point I actually am going to have to finish this portrait,” he joked, and Isak pouted, not liking the idea of not seeing Even every few days. He had gotten used to their regular meetings, to the routine of sitting in position while he and Even talked and laughed, and he wasn’t a fan of the fact that it was eventually going to have to end. He knew Even was already stretching it out, intentionally going slowly to take longer than he really needed.

The conversation shifted when Even asked Isak to tell him more about his mother’s antics, and Isak needed no more encouragement to regale him with exaggerated tales of her temporary fixations and completely ridiculous ideas in the name of keeping up appearances. They ended the session with both of them doubled-up laughing with tears in their eyes, and Isak’s soul felt light.

Perhaps it was related to the invigorating horse ride through the woods he had gone on that morning, or maybe there was something in the porridge he ate for breakfast, but something was making Isak bold today. So when he walked Even to the door, Even cordially greeting his father as they passed him on their way out of the library, he stopped Even when he was halfway out the door.

Leaning in close and lowering his voice, he looked Even up and down shamelessly and blinked up at him through his eyelashes, enjoying Even’s frozen, gape-mouthed expression.

“There’s a shed on the edge of our garden to the left of the house. It’s unlocked. Meet me in there,” he whispered, then ducked back inside and shut the door, smirking to himself at Even’s shocked face and the flash in his eyes.

He knew neither of his parents would particularly wonder or care where he went, so he didn’t bother to think of an excuse, just made sure to pass them both so they wouldn’t suspect he left with Even. After making the rounds of the house, he went through the kitchen and snuck out the side door.

He was feeling jittery, light and bouncy with anticipation. It made him feel powerful and desirable, knowing that Even was in that shed waiting for him, probably just as excited and keyed-up as he was.

It had been far too long since he last had Even’s lips on his, and that was exactly what he intended to get.

The sun was beginning to set, the light growing dim, and when he pulled open the door of the shed, it was dark inside, but he could still make out Even waiting expectantly, leaning against one of the cabinets in the corner.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly, both of them grinning at each other, a little giddy. When he closed the door behind him, it became too dark to see, so he turned and felt along the familiar wall for the torch he knew would be mounted there. His hand closed around the cold metal of the striker next to it, which he grabbed to light it.

He was focused, struggling to spark the torch, which was why he didn’t notice Even moving up behind him and nearly jumped when he suddenly felt Even’s chest press against his back, his arms weaving their way around his torso.

Even chuckled as his reaction, his breath hot and tickling the back of Isak’s neck, before he felt him move down and start pressing wet kisses to the side of his neck.

Isak was breathing heavily, fumbling now as Even distracted him, feeling him smile against the crook of his shoulder when he dropped the striker with a clatter.

With a curse, Isak finally managed to get himself together enough to set the torch alight, despite Even’s ongoing sabotage. The small shed was lit up with an orange, flickering glow, revealing the dusty shelves and tools stacked up against the walls that the gardeners used – and sometimes his mother, when she was feeling particularly ambitious.

Isak turned around in Even’s arms so he could fix him with a playful glare, and Even grinned back, unrepentant. Just as Isak was going to tilt his chin up to ask Even to kiss him again, though, Even stepped back, removing his arms from around Isak and taking his pleasant warmth with him, leaning back against the cabinet where he had started, folding his arms.

“So,” Even started, fixing Isak with a mischievous smirk. “What exactly did you bring me out here for?”

With all the bravado and confidence that Isak had come in with, he suddenly felt a bit nervous, shy and unsure again. He knew that he wanted something – something that involved Even, and that would make them both feel good, but he felt afraid to ask for it, to initiate.

Even seemed to notice, softening his expression and unfolding his arms. “Hey, it’s alright. We don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s not that –“ Isak rushed to explain. “I want…I want to. I just. I don’t know.”

Tilting his head, Even looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled and nodded. He stretched his hand out across the room towards Isak, holding it out in invitation.

“Come here,” he said softly, and Isak felt pulled to oblige. He reached out his hand, letting Even take it, stepping forward until he was in Even’s space, standing between his legs. The warmth was back, now, and it soothed him.

Even’s hand came up to cup his cheek, caressing it softly, and Isak watched as Even’s eyes darted over Isak’s face, down to his lips, across his cheekbones, back to his eyes. He bit his lip.

Pushing himself off of the cabinet so that he was standing at his full height, a couple inches taller than Isak, which also put him much closer, Even ducked in and took his lips in a slow, thorough kiss.

As soon as he felt it, Isak was put at ease, whatever nerves he had been feeling forgotten as Even moved his lips against his languidly, taking his time, making Isak’s heart ache with the desire to speed things up, to get the true fulfillment he needed.

When Isak took things into his own hands and started kissing back, speeding up the pace, Even returned in kind with enthusiasm, taking another step forward so he was almost leaning over Isak, forcing him off balance a little so that he was held up by the hand spread on the small of his back. Stroking the edge of his jaw with his thumb, Even coaxed Isak’s mouth open, slipping his tongue in and groaning softly, almost inaudibly if it weren’t for the rumble Isak could feel against his chest.

The sound make his breath stutter and his mouth fall open farther. Suddenly he was starting to feel hot, his body responding in a way he had little experience with. His trousers were tightening, and he could feel from Even’s hips pressed against his that his were too, which made him blush.

They separated to catch their breaths, Isak panting heavily already, his head starting to spin with it all. Eyes still closed, Even nuzzled against Isak’s cheek, trailing his lips over his cheekbone and back until his breath ghosted at the shell of Isak’s ear, making him shiver.

“Do you trust me?” he breathed, lighting Isak’s skin up even more than it already was. He nodded vigorously, not even waiting for Even to continue, which made Even chuckle. “I’m going to make you feel really good, how does that sound?”

Isak tried to respond with words, but all that came out was a soft moan, which Even echoed, clenching his jaw.

He kissed him again, deep and dirty, and brought his hands to Isak’s waist to maneuver him around, turning them until they had switched places. He pushed against his stomach gently so he rocked back against the cabinet, leaning against it partially.

Pulling back and crouching slightly to meet Isak’s eyes, he searched them carefully.

“Stop me if you want to, okay?” he asked, brushing a lock of Isak’s hair back and waiting for him to nod.

Kissing down his neck, Even began to descend, paying special attention to the scant triangle of skin revealed at his collar, pulling at it greedily to get at more like he was frustrated at the cloth for being in his way.

Isak’s heart was racing, both from excitement and fear. He might not know much about these kinds of things, but he had at least a general idea of where this was going, and he fought back waves of self-consciousness, nagging worry that he would be inadequate, disappoint Even in some way.

All of that stopped when Even got to his knees and his hands reached the waistband of Isak’s trousers, because now nothing mattered but what Even was doing with his nimble fingers, deftly undoing the buttons. Before he could process it, Even was pulling his trousers down over his hips along with his undergarments, leaving him completely exposed from waist to thigh.

Instinctively, he had the urge to cover himself, to hide away from Even’s keen eyes, but Even seemed to sense this and grabbed his hands before he could, curling them into his palms and looking up at Isak imploringly.

“Don’t. Please. I want to see you. You’re beautiful, Isak.”

Isak melted at the words, unable to deny Even anything, and nodded faintly, drawing his hands back when Even let them go in order to spread his own hands over Isak’s pale thighs. He was trembling slightly, whether from anticipation or nerves or some combination he couldn’t tell, but Even hushed him gently and stroked his thumbs soothingly over his skin where they rested on his inner thighs.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he repeated, catching Isak’s eye again and making sure they were on the same page.

Isak didn’t want that, not anything close to it. He wanted Even to give him everything he had, and take whatever he wanted in return, until there was no part of him unclaimed. But he would settle for the heavenly feeling of Even kissing his hipbones softly, trailing kisses inward until he was mere inches away from where Isak wanted him most.

He was already so hard, and he felt a twinge of embarrassment, but Even didn’t seem to mind whatsoever, staring with glassy eyes and bringing a hand to wrap around him firmly, giving an experimental stroke up and down.

Isak gasped sharply, just barely stopping himself from jerking away at the intensity of the feeling. But it was so _good_ that he didn’t ever want Even to stop. He couldn’t imagine how he was going to make it if this was just the beginning.

Noticing his reaction, Even looked up, giving him a nearly wicked grin and continuing his strokes with vigor. Isak bit down on his lower lip hard, hips shifting and stomach flexing, unsure how to handle all of the feelings building up inside him that felt too big to be contained in his body. He’d done this to himself plenty of times before, of course, but it felt completely different. Even’s hand was so large and warm, and he moved it skillfully.

Using basic inference based on the fact that Even was on his knees in front of him, Isak was aware that this wasn’t actually the end goal Even had in mind, but still it took him by surprise when he suddenly felt the incredibly wet heat of Even’s mouth around the head of his cock.

He let out some sort of embarrassing strangled noise, hands gripping the edge of the cabinet behind him hard enough to dig his fingernails into the wood, and it didn’t let up, only got more intense as Even took a bit more of him in and started involving his tongue in the matter.

“Holy shit, oh my god,” Isak gasped, watching with his eyes glued to Even’s head bobbing steadily.

Every stroke of Even’s tongue on the sensitive underside of his head had Isak’s toes curling in his boots, and he couldn’t believe that it was possible for something to feel this good, he really couldn’t. Even’s hand had come up to twist and stroke at the portion of his dick that wasn’t in his mouth, while his other hand kept a steady, grounding grip on Isak’s hip. He would pop off every once in a while, catching his breath and licking at the precum collecting on the tip, then dive back in, hollowing his cheeks to create an incredible pressure, the velvety soft of the inside of his cheeks sending a shudder all the way up Isak’s spine.

“Even,” he moaned deeply, letting his head fall back.

Fart too quickly, Isak felt the familiar tightening in his lower stomach, the desperation building to a fever pitch. He was gasping every breath now, thighs beginning to tremble and knees growing weak. Even didn’t slow down, seeming intent on driving Isak out of his mind with pleasure.

His head felt fuzzy, hazy, but at the same time sharply focused, all his attention on what Even was doing to him and nothing else.

It took him by surprise when he came into Even’s mouth, pulling a moan out of his throat that he tried unsuccessfully to muffle. Even worked him through it, moaning around him, then pulled off just as Isak was coming down.

Grinning up at him, Even turned and kissed the juncture of his thigh sweetly, Isak so sensitive now that the small gesture was almost too much.

He was panting hard, and still trying to get the strength back in his legs, clear his mind enough to wrap it around what had just happened as Even stood, wiping the corner of his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I…” Isak started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence, couldn’t conjure up the words to speak. Even chuckled, kissing his cheek and carefully pulling Isak’s trousers back up, wincing apologetically when Isak hissed at the sensation.

The shed was hot from the fire of the torch, but Isak probably would have been sweating without it, feeling like he’d just run a mile. He crumpled against Even’s chest when he brought his arms around Isak’s shoulders, drawing him in and placing kisses all over his face and in his hair, stroking his back.

After a minute, it occurred to Isak that Even was now in his own predicament, with no relief in sight.

“Oh – sorry,” he stuttered, pulling back and looking at Even’s crotch, where he was very clearly still hard. He felt like he had broken some fundamental etiquette here, like he was expected to return the favor and get Even off, but if he was being honest, he wasn’t really sure he was up to it. This had been a lot, and he was kind of overwhelmed, and he had no idea what he was going or even how to go about pleasuring Even. But the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint him, or do anything that might make Even less inclined to do this again, so he was willing to try.

Even followed his gaze, huffing a slightly strained laugh.

“Yeah, look what you’ve done to me, huh?”

When he saw Isak’s expression, though, he brought his hand up to stroke the side of Isak’s face, shaking his head softly.

“Don’t worry about me. You don’t have to do anything.”

“But, that’s not fair, I mean I can’t just leave you like that –“ Isak protested, feeling guilty.

“Hey, no. This was intense for you, wasn’t it? I can tell you’re not ready. So don’t. It’s okay.”

Even’s eyes were so clear and earnest, their deep blue irises reflecting the flickering of the torch, that Isak had to believe him, sighing and letting his shoulders relax. Even stroked his thumb over Isak’s bottom lip, still looking at him like he was something precious, like Isak had never known he could be looked at before.

He still felt like he need to say something, opening his mouth but not finding the right words, until Even shrugged.

“Next time,” he said with a smile. “If you want.”

Isak nodded, deeply grateful in that moment for basically everything about Even. His body was still abuzz from the aftershocks of his orgasm, and he yawned, beginning to feel the tiredness set in. He let his head fall to rest in the crook of Even’s neck, nuzzling there were it was warm and smelled like Even.

That night, Isak lay in bed, restless, thoughts racing around in his head. He couldn’t stop replaying what had happened, recalling how Even had looked, how his mouth had felt, how he’d held him after. It occurred to him to wonder what it would be like to have Even in bed with him, lying right there next to him, arms wrapped around him, and the thought brought happy butterflies to his stomach immediately.

One of the things he had to think about was the fact that Even had clearly done that before. He exuded confidence – which he always did, to be fair, but his skill indicated his past experience.

He wasn’t bothered by the idea – well, maybe a little, a twinge of jealousy curling in his stomach. But mostly, he was just intrigued. If Even had done this with other boys, that meant there were other people…like him. There had been other people who had experienced this, other people who know how Isak felt, and they weren’t hiding from it.

He was certain, suddenly, that there _must_ have been people all throughout history who had gone through exactly what he was going through.

He wanted to know who they were.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was a particularly clear night, the sky dark and the stars crisp and bright against it, a night that Isak would normally wish he was out at the observatory during, scanning the stars close-up. But tonight, he was perfectly satisfied with where he was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you all so much for the comments and kudos, I really appreciate the feedback! You're all lovely <3

Isak didn’t usually have the opportunity to watch the sunrise over the city – this was earlier in the morning than he almost ever got up. So he make a point to take it in, to enjoy the creamy orange glow reflected in the water as he walked alongside the canal in Nyhavn, walking at a brisk clip, hands stuffed in the pockets of the light jacket he was wearing.

He was on his way to the university library, because the research he wanted to do wasn’t something that his father’s extensive collection could help him with.

It was part of the reason he had decided to come here so uncharacteristically early, and why he was wearing a cap, walking with his head bent, pulling his shoulders in as if it would help him to not attract attention. He wasn’t trying to hide or sneak around, per se, but he didn’t exactly want prying eyes on him, watching and wondering what he was up to.

After climbing up the spiral stairs of the tower, Isak entered the library, a little out of breath.

He wove through the stacks, methodically scanning the spines of each book, picking out each one that looked promising until he had a heavy armful. He wasn’t sure where to start, really, felt like he was looking for a needle in a haystack, but he was determined to find it, however many pages he had to flip through.

Dropping the stack of books on a table with a loud thump, Isak sat down with a sigh and resigned himself to a long slog through the books in front of him, plus many more that he probably hadn’t found yet.

Picking the first book off of the pile and throwing the cover open, rolling his shoulders like a runner getting ready for a race, he began.

One sign of how ridiculously long Isak had been at this was how sore his ass was from sitting on the uncomfortable wooden bench. Another was the fact that there was now hardly any light coming in from the narrow windows, his reading instead lit by two candles he had set up in front of himself.

The fruits of his labor were a newfound understanding that what he was experiencing was not at all new or unheard of. There was a whole history of people out there who were attracted to their same gender, and it wasn’t always something that was kept hidden. He read voraciously, his eyes scanning the pages as quickly as they could, taking in the information like a starving man at a feast.

It wasn’t easy, finding a string of truth to grab onto, but once he did, he was able to follow it, unravelling more and more.

He read about the ancient Greeks, and how it was common back then for men to have sexual relationships with each other. It was the only thing he had heard and inkling of before, but it turned out there was so much more that he hadn’t known. Pouring over dusty, clearly rarely-opened writings from Plato, he read his descriptions of respected, brave men who only had relationships with other men. Digging even further, he learned about the male lovers of Thai kings, how the emperor Hadrian was so grieved by the death of his companion Antinous that he had him deified, even the much more recent rumors about William Shakespeare.

After his hours of researching, he felt that his eyes had been opened. He couldn’t believe he had never known these things before, that he had been so confused and apprehensive when there had in fact been people who felt the same way for millennia. Especially with the accounts of more recent public figures, he wondered if he was just oblivious, if this was something that other people were perfectly aware of but just kept it hushed, whispered about it in rumors behind closed doors.

On one hand, he felt almost angry, like something had been kept from him that could have saved him a lot of worry and internal strife. At the same time, though, he was invigorated by this new knowledge, felt safer and more validated in his feelings now that he knew he wasn’t alone, not by a longshot. Whatever bits of shame and self-doubt that had been left were cast away.

He knew who he was, and now he felt like he had a sense of his place in the universe, his particular slot in history where he belonged.

Placing all the books back carefully in their original spots, he left with more of a spring in his step, back now straight and head held high as he headed back home, satisfied with what he had learned and itching to share it, though he knew there was only one person he could share it with. At least for now.

“Even, I have so much to tell you,” he said, just as soon as he had gotten the requisite amount of kisses from him after they made it into the library, having been blessed with some privacy today as Isak’s parents were both out for the afternoon.

“Oh yeah?” Even chuckled, raising an eyebrow and giving Isak one more peck before he relinquished his hold around Isak’s waist.

“What exactly did you get up to that has you so excited?” He asked as Isak dutifully got in his chair as Even set up his paints.

“I went to the library.”

“Wow, exhilarating.”

Isak rolled his eyes. “You didn’t let me finish! I went to the library to do some research about – well, I wanted to find out about other people who have felt the same way as I do…about you.”

Even looked at him carefully, an intensity in his eyes at the words that Isak couldn’t really interpret.

“Well, tell me about it then.”

For nearly the entire session, Isak talked about a mile a minute, repeating what he had learned to Even. He may have embellished the stories a little bit, making them more dramatic, tales of lost love and brilliant minds, but Even just smiled and urged him on.

By the time he finally ran out of words, Isak blushed, realizing he had basically been lecturing at Even for the past hour.

“Sorry, that was a lot. Sometimes I just get carried away…”

“Don’t apologize,” Even stopped him, firmly. “I like listening to you talk. Especially when you get all animated like that.” He smiled fondly. “It was interesting.”

“Oh,” Isak whispered, the words warming his insides and doing nothing to get rid of his blush, but changing the reason behind it.

“It does make it a bit hard to paint you, though, so I can’t say this was my most productive session,” Even laughed, winking. It wasn’t as if they were ever very productive, anyway.

Taking that as his signal that their time was done, Isak stretched, reaching his arms high above his head and arching his back, before getting up and ambling over to Even while he cleaned up. He went around the side of the canvas to take a look at the painting, since it had been a while since it had even crossed his mind to see how it was coming along. Even had started working on the background – he had made enough progress on Isak’s face and clothing that now he was trying to make it take longer by adding much more detail to the background than he usually would. It looked beautiful, of course, and Isak could almost forget it was his own likeness that he was looking at and just appreciate it for its artistic value.

“Hey.”

Even’s voice came suddenly close in his ear, snapping Isak out of his careful observation and making him jump.

When he turned, Even was standing next to him, looking almost nervous.

“I, uh, I had this idea – I thought it might be fun for us to do something this Thursday night, if you think you could get away without your parents noticing. It’s a surprise, but I promise it’ll be fun.”

Isak knew immediately that he was going to say yes, of course he was, but the happy sparks in his chest that Even’s proposition brought make him want to be a little playful.

“Hmmm, Thursday you said? Let me think…am I doing anything this Thursday?” He tapped his chin, pretending to think, and Even rolled his eyes. “Nope, I don’t think so! So, I _suppose_ I could do something with you,” he concluded with a beaming grin, which Even returned.

“Perfect,” he murmured, leaning in until Isak got impatient and lunged up on his toes to kiss Even goodbye.

It wasn’t particularly common for Isak to speak to or even see his father on a typical day, so it was especially unusual when one morning, Terje Valtersan sought Isak out where he was eating some eggs for a makeshift breakfast in the kitchen, asked him to meet him in the library, and promptly turned around and walked away.

Watching him go, Isak swallowed his bite of eggs with a gulp, feeling like he’d just witnessed a bad omen.

As he walked down the hallway, dragging his feet a bit, his mind raced through the past few days, trying to think of anything he could have done that might have gotten him in trouble. He came up empty, so he was more confused and apprehensive than ever when he ducked in the door to the library, finding his father standing by the window, looking out with his hands crossed behind his back.

He turned when he heard Isak come in, gesturing for him to sit – ironically, in the same chair that was usually used for posing for his portrait. It had been a while since he had felt this nervous in this chair.

Knowing better than to speak first, try to get his father to spit out whatever it was he needed to say to him, Isak bit his tongue, waiting impatiently.

His father began pacing before him, stiffly, two steps one way, then a sharp turn, then two steps the other way.

“I’m getting old, Isak,” he began. Isak gave a confused frown; it wasn’t exactly how he expected this to start.

“And because I am getting old, we need to have a conversation we should have had quite some time ago.”

Isak was only growing more concerned, not liking where this was going at all. He waited for his father to continue.

“You are my only son, and as such, you will be the one to succeed me as the head of the business when I must step down. I have been remiss in teaching you the ways of business and trade while you are still a young man. You should really have been shadowing me these past few years as an apprentice, but it seemed reasonable for you to get your education first. Now, it’s time for us to get more serious about this.”

Isak’s father paused, to give him time to respond, but silence rang out instead.

Isak had known pretty much forever that taking over the family shipping business was the absolute last thing he wanted to do with his life. It just didn’t suit him in any way – he could never imagine himself in any one of his father’s duties. In the back of his mind, he’d always known it was what was expected of him, but since the subject hadn’t even been broached since he was a boy, he had kind of figured he’d gotten out of it somehow, that his father had realized he would be no good at it and decided to handle the succession another way. But apparently not.

He hadn’t been expecting to walk into this conversation today, but he it looked like it was happening whether he was ready for it or not.

His father was still looking at him expectantly, like he was about to ask if he’d had his tongue cut out, and Isak floundered.

“Pappa…I can’t – I can’t do that. You know that’s not what I want,” he explained carefully, almost sheepishly.

“What are you talking about? Of course you can. This isn’t about what you want, Isak, this is your duty as my son. This is how it _works_.”

The idea of spending the rest of his life making deals and inspecting ships and writing account logs made Isak shudder, so he persisted, trying to maintain his calm.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but there has to be some other way. Pappa, you know me,” he implored, “You know I would be miserable stuck managing your business for the rest of my days. I love my studies, I love _science_ , I need to be able to learn and to discover…” he trailed off, losing his momentum as his father’s face grew more stormy.

“This is ridiculous, Isak. It’s all well and good for you to fill up your time with your studies in the meantime, but that isn’t a _career_ , not for someone of your station.

“That isn’t true!” Isak shouted, his desperation wearing away at his attempt to keep himself composed. “Natural philosophers are _respected_ , they’re some of the brightest minds of our times, even _kings_ see the importance of their work – just look at Tycho Brahe! He was a nobleman, and no one told him he couldn’t also be a brilliant astronomer –“

“Until he was exiled,” his father broke in.

“…That was a different time.”

“It wasn’t that long ago.”

Isak sighed, losing steam. “Pappa, I’m sorry. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m not going to follow in your footsteps. I’m just not.”

Terje’s face was growing red at being argued with like this – he wasn’t used to it.

“Isak, I didn’t raise you to act like this. I have allowed you to play around at that university, but you are a man now and you are going to have to take your place in the real world.”

“But—”

“This conversation is over,” he stated, shutting down Isak’s protest. At this point, Isak knew better than to argue, instead choosing to thrust himself out of the chair and stomp out of the library, stopping just short of slamming the door behind him.

Veering towards the front door, he stormed out of the house, fuming. Once he was out, he didn’t really know where he had intended to go, so he just let his feet and his anger carry him until he ended up standing beneath Jonas’s bedroom window, staring up at it.

He never argued with his father – Terje was usually an even-tempered man of few words, but when he did get angry about something, he was a force to be reckoned with. During his anger-fueled march to Jonas’s house, he had calmed down significantly, unable to maintain the fire in his belly once the argument was over. Still, he was in need of someone to talk to about it, and preferably to let him complain and then cheer him up, and Jonas was just the man to do it.

Hanging on to Jonas’s windowsill after struggling to pull himself up using the rough stone and vines of the side of the house (he was certain this had been easier when he was younger, or maybe he was just getting less nimble), Isak tapped on the window, hoping that by some chance Jonas would be in there, even though it was the middle of the day.

Peering inside with a squint, he spotted Jonas at his desk in the corner, writing, turning around with a confused frown when he heard Isak’s tapping.

“ _Pssst!_ Jonas! It’s me!” he hissed, willing Jonas to hear him and _open the damn window_ because he was pretty sure his fingers were going to fall off if he tried to hold himself up here any longer.

Thankfully, a moment later Jonas stood, putting his quill back in its ink pot and coming over to the window, where he did a double-take when he realized it was Isak there.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Jonas whispered, laughing, as he pulled the window up and took Isak’s hand to help hoist him into the room.

When he had both feet on solid ground again, dismounting ungracefully from the windowsill, Isak sighed and straightened his shirt.

“Had a fight with my father. Needed to let off steam and ended up here.”

Jonas nodded. “Say no more. Oh! Wait here.”

One of the things Isak appreciated most about Jonas was how he never asked questions, was just there when Isak needed him.

He darted out of the room, leaving Isak perplexed and standing there until he popped back in the door holding a braided loaf of sweet bread that he must have looted from their kitchen. Isak fixed him with a look that Jonas read easily, rolling his eyes.

“I know, I know, it’s not exactly comfort food but it’s the best we had.”

They ended up sitting on the floor of Jonas’s room beneath the window, in case his parents came by to see what he was doing and Isak needed to make a quick escape. Tearing off pieces of the bread, which was actually surprisingly delicious, Jonas listened while Isak ranted and complained, explaining the argument with his father, and probably sounding a lot less eloquent with his mouth stuffed full, but still.

Jonas nodded understandingly, lending a sympathetic ear.

“That’s shitty. I’m sorry,” he concluded, and Isak nodded in agreement, tearing off a large chunk of bread to make himself feel better.

“What’s your plan?” Jonas asked. “Are you going to stand your ground on this? Or do you think your father will put his foot down?”

Isak sighed, thinking it over, because he didn’t really know the answer himself yet.

“I don’t know. I mean, this is really important to me, you know? I’m certainly going to fight for it harder than the time I tried to convince him to let me keep that hedgehog as a pet…”

“Oh my god, I forgot about that,” Jonas cackled, clutching his stomach. “Your father’s face when he walked in to see a hedgehog sitting on your mother’s best rug in front of the fireplace…”

Despite everything, Isak found himself laughing too, and they found themselves reminiscing about all of the trouble they got themselves into as children.

A while later, they fell into silence again while they were both lying on the floor, pillows under their heads and stomachs sore from laughing. In the moment of quiet, Isak’s mind made its way back to his worries, and he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jonas said kindly. Isak appreciated it, but he wasn’t sure if he believed him.

“I hope so.”

For the next couple of days, Isak pretty much avoided his father, which ended up not being much different from his usual routine, since they rarely crossed paths anyways.

His mood was dour, and there wasn’t nearly enough to distract him, especially since his schoolwork only reminded him of his current predicament. He found himself moping in his classes and over his work, thinking about how he might be forced to leave this all behind soon. There were so many things left that he hadn’t learned, and not nearly enough time.

What he really needed was Even, to take his mind off of his problems and replace all of the bad feelings inside him with the fluttering warmth that overtook him whenever Even was around. He was counting down the hours until their nighttime meeting, running through ideas in his head of what Even could possibly have planned.

When Terje called Isak into the library again, he steeled himself for another argument, taking a deep breath and setting his shoulders before entering the room to face his father.

Terje was sitting this time, in his favorite armchair, its well-worn leather a badge of its frequent use over the years. He was facing the window, looking out, not turning when Isak came in. When he made his way over and got a look at his father’s face, he looked weary, far different from how Isak was used to seeing him, stoic and refined.

“You get your stubbornness from your mother,” he began, still staring out into the garden with a distant look. A smile crept onto his face as he reminisced, and Isak was struck by how much it looked like his own. “When I was first courting her it was one of my favorite things about her, I can’t imagine why. Did you know – her parents actually wanted her to marry someone else, someone from a wealthy family more appropriate for her status. But she staunchly refused, and ended up with me, just another tradesman.” He laughed, shaking his head.

Isak shifted on his feet, unsure where the conversation was going, or what was expected of him. Finally, his father looked up at him, breaking out of his reverie.

“Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him, and Isak did, perching on the edge of it uncomfortably in case he wanted to storm out again.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I was a lot like you as a young man. Before I started building this business, I was very invested in my studies too. There was nothing I loved more than reading, about any topic under the sun – why do you think I have all these books?”

He gestured to the shelves around them, the whole library filled with what was truly and impressive collection. Isak had never really thought about it before – that having this library, that he had always seen as a sanctuary, a place just for him where he could disappear within the pages, consume the information at his fingertips, meant that his father had at least at one time had the exact same desire for knowledge that he did.

Terje sighed heavily. “I had dreams of going to university, studying just like you are, something like history or philosophy. I imagined I would spend my days in my study, reading and writing, maybe teaching as well. But then the opportunity came along to do this instead, and…it was just more practical. Safer.”

“I know you’ve always been more of the studious type, more interested in books and research than anything else. It was probably willful ignorance on my part to think that you would be happy to follow in my footsteps. Sometimes I do still wish that I had followed that passion I had as a boy. I want you to be happy, Isak. That is what is most important to me. Others might not agree, but…there will have been no point to all of this hard work over the years if I am not able to give you a happy life. And if pursuing your studies in natural philosophy is what will make you happy, then you should do it.”

For a moment, Isak just stared at him in shock. This was pretty much the opposite of how he’d expected this conversation to go, but here they were. If he was hearing right, his father had actually just given his blessing for Isak to follow his own path, to not have to spend his life miserable, fulfilling a duty he didn’t want. It wasn’t too surprising when he found his eyes were pricked with tears.

“Oh. Well, thank you,” he murmured, unsure what to say. His voice was a little rough, so he cleared his throat. “What will you do then, when it comes time for you to step down?”

Maybe he was pushing his luck asking, but it wasn’t as if his father would have come to this conclusion without thinking about the consequences for him.

Terje shrugged, picking his cup of tea up off of the windowsill and taking a sip.

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to start looking for a worthy apprentice to start training as my successor. I’ll be hard pressed to find one as sharp as you though,” he said with a dramatic sigh, giving Isak a knowing smirk, to which Isak rolled his eyes in return.

With that weight lifted off of his shoulders, Isak was free to fret about his impending outing with Even in a few hours. He was nervous, there was no denying that, even though he had grown to be so much more comfortable in Even’s presence of late. This felt different than before.

He was pacing around his bedroom, intermittently glaring at the outfits he had laid out on his bed, as if they were the source of his troubles. It felt very important what he chose to wear tonight, like there was a distinctly right and wrong choice, even though all the outfits he had in front of him were some of his nicest, and also pretty much identical.

Huffing, Isak grabbed one of them and started putting it on, straightening it and then turning to look at himself in the mirror. He examined his reflection with a critical eye, tilting his head and squinting at himself. It wasn’t terrible, he decided. The shirt he had chosen was a nice, soft material that draped over his skin pleasingly, and his coat a rich blue color that looked good against his eyes and golden hair. It was certainly more effort than he usually put into his appearance, but this was the only time it had counted.

He messed with his hair, trying to tame his stray curls and force them to stay back where they belonged, but he knew they would pop back out in no time.

The house was silent, seemingly empty, but he knew his parents were asleep in their chambers on the other end of the hallway. The candles he had set strategically around his room were the only light left in the place.

He felt jittery and excited, a good feeling, but also a bit like he had eaten some bad stew.

When the tap on his window came, he nearly jumped out of his skin, luckily suppressing the shriek that his throat wanted to produce. He could see Even’s face through the window, laughing at Isak’s reaction.

“Hi,” Isak whispered after hoisting the window open. Even was beaming up at him, eyes alight.

“You look beautiful,” he said, making Isak nearly choke on nothing and blush instantly.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Stepping back from the window, Even held his hand out, signaling for Isak to come down. After blowing out his candles, he climbed out of the window, letting Even help him down. When he turned around, he was close to Even, nearly flush with his chest, and he giggled nervously.

“Come on, follow me,” Even instructed, and took off towards the road, looking back to make sure Isak was coming.

Even walked quickly, enough so that Isak almost had trouble keeping up with his long legs. He seemed just as excited as Isak was, though less nervous, which made him feel a bit better.

They entered the city, and Isak could tell they were headed towards the city center. He still had no clue what Even had planned, but he was carrying a bag that Isak had noticed a bottle of wine peeking out of. Wine would be more than welcome to soothe his nerves.

They talked a bit, about small things, mostly, nothing significant. But the mere presence of Even’s voice in Isak’s ear soothed him, as he was finding it always did. There was nothing to be nervous about when Even was next to him.

It was chilly, the early September night bringing crisp air and a light breeze that had Isak stuffing his hands in his coat pocket and shrugging his shoulders up to shield his neck. Even noticed, frowning worriedly and looking Isak up and down.

“Are you cold?” he asked, voice laced with concern. “I’m sorry. We’ll be there soon. I brought a blanket but it won’t exactly help while we’re walking – unless you want to have it now? Here, you can wrap it around yourself…”

He started pulling the blanket out of his bag before Isak had the chance to get a word in edgewise, and he had to stop him with a hand on his elbow.

“No, Even, it’s fine. I’m alright, I promise.”

Even looked skeptical, but acquiesced.

He hadn’t lied, and a few minutes later, Even came to a halt.

“We’re here,” he announced, staring up at the building looming in front of them.

Following his gaze, Isak found that they had ended up at the steps of the concert hall, a grand, imposing building of stone that Isak usually only visited when his parents dragged him out to see the Christmas choir performance every year.

There were people streaming in, all dressed in the highest fashion, many of whom Isak recognized. Coming here was a popular way to make sure you were seen in the right places by the right people, displaying wealth and culture.

Which was why Isak wasn’t sure what he and Even were doing here, of all places, and he gave Even a look that said as much. Even merely laughed and took his elbow, leading him off around the side of the building where they came upon one of the side-doors usually used for performers to come in and out.

Isak stopped then, needing to know what the plan was before he let this go any further.

“Okay, hold on. What are we doing?”

“We’re seeing a concert,” Even explained matter-of-factly, while climbing up the stairs to the door and pulling it open, stepping aside and looking at Isak expectantly.

Isak stayed put, raising an eyebrow.

“And how do you think we’re going to do that without tickets?”

“Do you trust me?” Even asked.

The answer was yes, obviously, so Isak sighed and went to him, passing him by as Even held the door open for him. They were just inside the backstage area of the building and they weren’t alone, people milling about everywhere getting ready for the performance, carrying instruments back and forth, shouting instructions to each other. Panicking that they would be caught sneaking in through the side door, Isak froze, but Even appeared unperturbed.

“Just follow me,” he instructed, taking off to the left and through the narrow, dark space between the edges of the stage and the wall of the building. Isak wondered for a moment why Even knew how to navigate this place, but dropped the thought when he saw the narrow, pitch black set of stairs that Even apparently wanted him to climb up.

Hesitating, he looked up at Even questioningly, who turned around looking for him, already halfway up the steps.

“It’s okay,” he assured. “I know where we’re going.” He reached a hand out toward Isak, and after a moment’s deliberation, Isak took it, letting Even help guide him up in the dark, making sure he didn’t trip.

Once they made it to the top, they took a sharp turn, Even leading him across the creaky wooden floorboards of the upper level. It was dark up here too, but some of the lights from below leaked in, making it light enough to see where they were going. This clearly wasn’t somewhere they were supposed to be; it was dusty and bare, more suited for storing set pieces for plays and controlling staging elements from above than for two boys trying to enjoy a performance together. It was a bit nerve-wracking, but exhilarating in a good way, being up here, hoping no one caught them, jumping at the sound of bats fluttering their wings as they flew away.

The ceiling got lower as they went, until they had to crouch while they walked to avoid hitting their heads on the beams. Finally, Even stopped, making Isak nearly run into his back. They had reached a point where the floor stopped, opening up to the vast concert hall below. It was right above the stage so that they were looking directly down at it, where the harpsichord sat at the center, flanked by a few string instruments, abandoned as their owners remained backstage, getting ready to come out. This was clearly a space meant for workers to control things behind the scenes, hoisting ropes and lighting the huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

It was empty now, save for them, and Even put down his bag in order to pull out the blanket he had brought, tossing it out to lay it on the dusty floor, then gesturing for Isak to sit. He did, with a shy smile, waiting for Even to join him, folding his longs legs in front of him and settling in.

“They’re playing Monteverdi,” Even explained, the two of them peering down to watch the choir and musicians file in, the audience below them breaking to applause. “I thought it could be fun to watch it, even though we can’t actually attend, you know, _officially_.”

Isak watched with interest as the musicians got set up, tuning their instruments and rosining their bows. When the harpsichordist walked out onto the stage in a grand, shimmering coat, the audience went silent. He stopped in the middle of the stage, bowed, and then sat down at the bench with a flourish.

Leaning in, Even whispered in his ear. “I hope you like it.”

The music was incredible, unlike anything he had heard before. The sound filled the whole building, the soaring voices of the chorus reaching all the way to the rafters where they were, giving Isak goosebumps. Entranced, he watched and listened intently, almost forgetting that Even was next to him until he started whispering comments to him, leaning in just so until their arms were pressed together and letting his breath brush at Isak’s neck.

Even knew a lot about music as well as art, it turned out, and Isak was eating up all the little facts he was telling him, insights about the performance they were seeing.

At one point, during an especially emotive section of the piece, when both of them were silent and focused on the music, Even slowly, carefully inched his hand over, until the backs of his fingers brushed Isak’s. His heart speeding up, Isak didn’t move, hoping that Even would continue. When he did, slipping his hand around Isak’s and lacing their fingers together, Isak bit his lip to contain his smile, the warmth growing in his chest at the gesture threatening to overflow. He’d never understood the point of hand-holding before, thought it only made sense as a way for parents to keep their children in tow. Now, he got it, and he didn’t want Even to ever let go.

When the concert was over, amidst the roar of applause, Isak and Even got up, and Isak went to make their escape, heading back where they came from until Even grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“Wait – I thought maybe we could stick around for a while? I brought this bottle of wine,” he said, lifting up the bag in demonstration, and Isak tried not to seem overly enthusiastic when he nodded.

Instead of heading back down the narrow staircase, Even took him up one last, rickety set of stairs until they were in some sort of in-between space, with the edges of the wooden ceiling on one side and the inside of the outer stone walls on the other. They picked their way along until they reached a gap in the stone, which Isak saw on further inspection was the inside of one of the windows that stuck out of the roof of the building. He marveled at how much larger it was in person than it looked from the ground, interrupted when Even, having worked the window open and climbed up onto the frame, held his hand out to Isak behind him.

When he followed, with Even’s help, he found that they had ended up on the roof of the concert hall, the whole city spilling out below them.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Even asked worriedly, like that possibility had just occurred to him, but he couldn’t have known about Isak’s particular penchant for sitting on roofs, watching the sky go by. Isak just shook his head and walked past him, picking out a spot a bit in front of the window for them to stake their claim to.

Once they had settled in, sharing the blanket and each other’s warmth, Even opened the bottle of wine with a pop. It was a dark red, and it coated Isak’s insides with its bitter richness as they passed the bottle back and forth, the liquid beginning to warm him from the inside. They were propped up close to each other, half lying down and leaning against each other’s sides, pressed together from shoulder to hip.

It was a particularly clear night, the sky dark and the stars crisp and bright against it, a night that Isak would normally wish he was out at the observatory during, scanning the stars close-up. But tonight, he was perfectly satisfied with where he was.

Noticing him looking, Even let his head fall to the side to look at Isak curiously.

“You said astronomy is one of the things you study, right?”

Isak nodded, secretly pleased that he had remembered.

“What can you tell me about all that,” Even asked softly, sweeping his arm across the whole expanse of the sky.

Isak giggled, the wine maybe already getting to him a little. “Well, that’s quite a lot of material to cover in one night, Even,” he quipped, making Even scoff and roll his eyes.

“Alright, fine, just tell me the most interesting parts then.”

Isak hummed, thinking, tapping his fingers on his stomach where they rested.

“Have you ever heard of Johannes Kepler’s ideas on celestial physics?”

“No, I can’t say I have,” Even chuckled, and Isak launched into a retelling of some of what he had learned in his courses, making sure to add some color and flourish to his explanations for Even’s sake.

The whole time, Even listened attentively, like he always did when Isak was rambling on about something he found interesting. When Isak pointed out different celestial bodies that were visible to them, he had a hard time getting Even to stop looking at him long enough to follow where Isak was pointing.

There was no telling how long they lay there, talking and looking at the sky and holding hands under their blanket. They spoke to each other in whispers, even though there was no one around to hear. When Isak finished his little lecture, Even was staring at him in a way that made his heart turn to liquid. Reaching over, he tucked a strand of hair behind Isak’s ear and gave him a warm, lingering kiss.

“I love it when you talk about things that excite you like that,” Even murmured, and something about him saying the word ‘love’ made Isak’s chest feel tight.

“Thanks,” he croaked, no doubt blushing once again, which seemed to be his permanent state nowadays.

Even flashed him a toothy grin and leaned in to kiss him again, mouth tasting of wine and something sweet and Even-like.

It wasn’t often that Isak really listened to his own body, analyzed his own feelings. But right now, under the stars with Even looking at him like that, with their fingers laced together and Even’s thumb tracing the veins on the back of his hand, Isak felt the need to look inward. He was used to the butterflies that invaded his stomach whenever Even was around, the flustered excitement that accompanied all thoughts of him, but this felt somehow different. This feeling was more settled, less anxious. Less about the fire that lit him from within when Even’s body was pressed to his, and more about the comfortable, warm contentment that filled him right now, just from having Even’s company.

It felt an awful lot like what all the books said falling in love felt like.

Isak gulped, pushing away the thought for now. It was too new, too frightening to invade on this perfect, tranquil night.

Instead, he tilted his chin up, waiting patiently the mere moment it took for that to get Even to kiss him again, sighing into it happily, belly full of wine and heart full of something else.

When they eventually climbed back down, they walked with careful footsteps back down the rickety stares, wary of alerting any workers that might be left behind clearing things up after the concert. Even insisted on walking him all the way home, even though Isak was pretty sure Even lived closer to the city center himself. He didn’t let go of Isak’s hand until they were standing beneath his window, neither one willing to be the one to say the final goodbye.

Even gave him one last kiss, a sweet one, lingering, with his hand resting on Isak’s waist like it belonged there.

“Will I see you again soon?” Isak asked, whispering into the night.

“Of course,” Even replied, “before you know it,” and then Isak climbed back into his room, reluctantly shutting the window and spending the rest of the night dreaming of one thing.

It was more than three weeks before he saw Even next.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Despite the slightly chilly air, the direct rays of the sun were pleasantly warm. Even sighed contentedly, closing his eyes and basking in the sunshine, holding Isak close with an arm across his back. Isak adjusted to get comfortable, hiking a leg up over both of Even’s to balance himself and beginning to lazily press kisses to his neck, moving down to his collar, tugging it aside to reach the skin of his upper chest. Even’s skin tasted salty and clean, and he was trailing his fingertips up and down Isak’s side, making him shiver."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're officially halfway through with this fic! A lot happens in this chapter (which is why it's so damn long), so buckle in!

The first few days, Isak had tried to be patient. He didn’t want to come across as overbearing or clingy. But as the days went on and Even didn’t show up, he got more and more anxious. After about a week, he gave in and asked his mother.

“Oh, we got a letter from him – it said he was feeling a bit ill and wouldn’t be able to make it for a few days.”

Isak snapped at her about how she could have told him that earlier, then stormed off to his room where he threw himself into his bed. Now, on top of merely missing Even, he had to worry about him, hope he wasn’t feeling too badly. As the days dragged on, his worries only amplified. He said he was only a bit ill, but what if he was downplaying it? It had been more than a week now; that didn’t sound like just a little sniffle.

Lying awake at night, he would let his mind go into a tailspin of worry, picturing Even sick in bed, alone, his usually bright light faded. He only grew more and more concerned, until it got to a point where he was beginning to truly panic. It occurred to him that he had no idea where Even lived – no way to find him, to see how he was doing and take care of him. He wanted to be by Even’s side, nursing him back to health, but all he could do was sit around, waiting to hear from him.

Once two weeks had passed, Isak’s worry started to transform into something else. It had been a long time to be just a little sick. In the absence of any word, his mind started searching for other possibilities, and settled on blaming himself.

He went back over all their interactions in the couple of weeks leading up to Even’s absence, trying to figure out if he had been reading everything wrong. The memories became twisted by his anxiety, self-doubt worming itself into the picture and making him think that maybe, he had done something wrong. Maybe, Even had just lost interest, and decided to disappear rather than tell him face to face. It made sense, he thought. It had been too good to be true all along, and now that the chase was over and Even had gotten what he wanted, maybe it just wasn’t that appealing anymore. Maybe Isak had been too willing, maybe he was supposed to be coy. Whatever it was, it seemed likely that he just hadn’t been enough to keep him there.

He lay in bed most nights, and a lot of days, sniffling back tears or just letting them flow.

Throwing himself into his studies didn’t work, because now all his books were tinted with memories of Even, all his lectures filled with things he wished he could tell him. He even skipped a few classes, something he’d never done before.

One night, Jonas came over, having gotten fed up with not being able to convince Isak to hang out for the past few weeks and deciding to take the matter into his own hands, showing up at Isak’s window and crawling in as soon as he opened it, without invitation. Isak was too exhausted to put on a front, so he just sighed and flopped down on the bed, tuning Jonas out.

When Jonas expressed concern at his state and asked what was wrong, Isak didn’t even care enough to lie about it, just told him.

“Even’s been gone for almost three weeks, and I don’t know why,” he said flatly, staring ahead at his bedroom wall.

“Oh,” Jonas said after a long pause. He didn’t ask for any further explanation, though his voice was full of questions.

He stayed, even though Isak was shit company, basically just existing while Jonas talked and handed him bits of chocolate, until Isak fell asleep, after which he must have snuck back out. But when Isak woke the next morning, he was warm and tucked in bed, which he knew he hadn’t done himself, and he felt just the tiniest bit better.

Then, one day, Even just showed back up.

There was a knock on the door one afternoon at their usual time, and when Isak opened it, expecting one of his mother’s friends calling or something, instead he found Even, standing there with his hands in his pockets and his bag slung over his shoulder, looking a bit sheepish.

Isak had to blink several times to clear his eyes, make sure his vision wasn’t impaired.

Even smiled at him, and asked if he could come in, that deep voice still the same, still reaching down into Isak’s bones, those eyes still crinkling at the corners when he smiled just like always.

When they ended up in the library, Isak was standing next to Even awkwardly, looking at his toes, unsure what to do or how to feel. He was happy that Even was there, of course, and it relaxed the lingering worry in the back of his mind that something really was very wrong with Even’s health, but he felt confused, and still a little hurt. Maybe Even had just come back to finish the portrait and complete his contract?

But his thoughts were proven wrong when Even put down his bag and took Isak’s hands in his, holding them gently, like he was holding a bird.

“Hey. I’m sorry I’ve been gone, and that I didn’t say anything to you,” he murmured, bending down to try to get Isak to meet his gaze, which he avoided, partly because he felt tears start to prickle at the corners of his eyes, and he didn’t want Even to see.

Even lifted a hand to his face, stroking his cheek and cupping his jaw so he could tilt his face up, and then Even was kissing him, just like he always had. The kisses were sweet and soft and placating, and Isak could almost _feel_ the apology in them, in the way Even kissed his lower lip and the corners of his mouth, cradling his face with both hands now and stroking his thumbs over Isak’s cheekbones.

When he pulled back just and inch to look in Isak’s eyes, he must have seen the sadness in them, because his eyebrows pulled together and he bit his lip, looking pained.

“I’m sorry. I was just ill. I promise you I would have come if I could.”

He leaned in again to kiss Isak’s cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, which Isak scrunched up, almost cracking a smile despite himself.

“I should have told you,” he murmured between kisses, each one sweeter than the last, “I’m sorry, angel.”

Isak’s heart woke and gave a flutter at the endearment, and the hurt and worry melted off, hopeless in the face of Even’s affection.

“Okay,” he whispered, clutching to the collar of Even’s shirt, not willing to let him go anytime soon. Even smiled brightly, wrapping an arm around Isak’s shoulders and pulling him into his chest, where Isak could feel his heart beat.

He felt like something was solidified, something mutually decided between them as he stood in Even’s embrace. The feelings that he had noticed embers of on that rooftop were growing, glowing softly.

Isak and Even had pretty much had all the space they needed for the duration of Even’s work on the portrait, since Terje was hardly ever home during the day and Marianne rarely left her particular corner of the house. It was convenient, since it allowed them to talk freely without any real threat of being overheard, and because if there had been parents looking over their shoulders, they would often have been seeing them in quite compromising positions.

Still, spending time together in a house occupied by Isak’s parents, who could theoretically come in and out of the library at any time, had its limitations. Namely, limitations on what they could actually do with their time together.

So, when Isak found out that both of his parents would be out of town, heading to Malmö for two whole weeks on business, he immediately started planning for Even and him to spend that time together at his vacated house, his imagination dreaming up all sorts of things they could get up to. In his head, it would be a perfect, idyllic two weeks, sunny and beautiful, filled with lazing about, sleeping in sunny patches of grass, reading to each other, and of course a fair bit of kissing, and…maybe other things.

The thought had Isak’s pulse picking up and his cheeks heating out of nowhere. It did seem like the perfect opportunity to further their physical relationship while they had the whole house to themselves, no fear of being interrupted. Realistically, Isak knew that everything he and Even had done so far had been relatively tame, even though to him, it felt like so much. He knew, very vaguely, from his research what was involved in sex between men, though the details were still unclear to him, which made him nervous. Regardless, the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted to do it with Even, wanted to be close to him in whatever way possible.

It was with moderate trepidation that Isak brought up his parents’ trip at their next session.

At this point, Even was really stretching out the portrait; it easily could have been done weeks ago, but he kept saying he needed to add details, make sure it was perfect, as an excuse to keep spending this time together. Today, he was working under the guise of putting extra detail in the depiction of Isak’s clothing, which truthfully he had already been over several times.

Isak broached the subject casually, trying to make the comment offhanded so it sounded like he didn’t care that much, was merely making a suggestion.

“You know, I just found out that my parents are both going to be in Malmö all next week, and the week after,” he said, looking off out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Even stop his work, looking up with marked interest, and Isak tried not to smirk.

“I was thinking, if you want, you could probably come over, maybe stay here?”

He got less confident as he spoke, starting to worry that he would sound presumptuous, or that Even would feel pressured, and he was about to back track until Even’s eyebrows went up seemingly almost to his hairline and he nodded slowly, eyes wide.

“Yeah, uh, I mean, that sounds great.”

A smile grew on Isak’s face, and he felt himself blushing from Even’s apparent enthusiasm for the idea.

“Yeah?” he said, biting his lip, and he almost thought he could see Even’s eyes get darker.

“Yeah.”

Isak was nervous in the days leading up to his parents’ leaving, though he was more excited. He wanted everything to be perfect, wanted to plan for all possibilities, and he spent the last few hours before Even had said he would come over fluttering around the house, putting things in place and brushing away dust, acting frighteningly like his mother when company was coming over. It wasn’t as if Even hadn’t seen his house before, but usually they were confined just to the library. He wanted to make especially sure that his bedroom was presentable, since it felt like a particularly important, personal space that he was going to let Even into.

It hit him for the first time that, in all likelihood, he and Even would actually be sharing his bed this week. He would get to fall asleep with Even’s warm body next to him, wake up to his blue eyes. If it was anything like what he imagined, it would be the best sleep he’d ever had.

When Even arrived, he swept Isak into his arms and kissed him right there in the middle of the hallway. It lit Isak up with adrenaline, kissing there out in the open, in this space that felt like they could never be free to do so, and he laughed breathlessly into the kiss.

They started out with lunch, which Isak had done his best to prepare himself, having dismissed all the servants for the time ahead so they would have full privacy. He was a little embarrassed for Even to see how much thought and effort he had put into doing this, felt a little silly, but Even whistled happily at the exhaustive plate of every type of cheese and meat and bread he could think of to put together laid out on the kitchen table.

They ended up sitting on stools, facing each other, legs slotted together as they ate. Even tore off a piece of bread and topped it with a healthy amount of brie, spreading orange marmalade on top before holding it up to Isak’s lips with a smile. Isak accepted it shyly, trying to chew delicately, and flushing with embarrassment when he let out an involuntary moan at the taste.

Even chuckled, reaching out to wipe away a bit of marmalade from the corner of his mouth.

“I guess you like that, huh?”

They had all the time in the world – or at least it felt like it, compared to the short bursts of time together that they had usually been working with. This resulted in them doing pretty much whatever they wanted with said time – from playing hide and seek (Even’s idea, and bad one at that, because obviously Isak would already know all of the hiding places in his own, large home) to reading quietly in the library, draped over windowsills and armchairs, and eventually with Isak’s head in Even’s lap, getting his hair played with, which he quickly decided was the most glorious feeling one could experience.

Isak was nervous when they went up to his room to go to sleep, afraid that, because he was inviting Even into his bed, Even would think they were having sex tonight, when Isak really wasn’t quite ready yet. Of course, his worries were unfounded, because Even carefully read his every signal and happily just lay in bed with him, making no moves to initiate anything and not even coming over to Isak’s side of the bed at first.

He left it to Isak to make the first moves towards him, staying in place while Isak scooted forwards until he could feel Even’s warmth radiating under the sheets. Even pulled the duvet up over the both of them, making sure to tuck it underneath Isak’s chin before blowing out the candle on the bedside table.

The darkness gave Isak the nerve he needed to cuddle up that bit closer, until his shoulder was pressed up against Even’s, the small point of contact enough to make him let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and relax into the mattress. He fell asleep, faster than he ever had in recent memory, with a small smile painted on his face.

Knowing Even, it shouldn’t have been at all a surprise when he enthusiastically presented the idea of spending an afternoon out in the garden and insisted on bringing his sketchbook and some charcoal.

It was no longer the warm midst of summer, so they dressed appropriately in thick shirts and jackets in order to sit out in the grass in the early October afternoon. Even’s hair was being blown by the slight breeze, and his eyes were narrowed, sharp and concentrated as he drew Isak, and Isak couldn’t imagine how such a beautiful person could be so focused on him, could think he was special enough to warrant endless artistic renditions. He was shy at first, feeling self-conscious with the knowledge that Even was drawing him, like he was supposed to look or pose a certain way that made him feel silly. But after a while, he loosened up, letting the calm of the afternoon rub off on him and leaning back on his elbows, relaxing into the grass.

He could hear the scratching of charcoal on Even’s notebook, and the flipping of pages each time Even filled up a page with drawings and went for another one. Isak smirked, his head hanging back and his eyes closed against the sun, opening one to squint over at Even.

“Do you _really_ need to draw me this many times?” he teased. “Surely by this point you must have pretty much covered everything.”

Even shook his head, feigning seriousness. “Not at all. Technically, there are infinite angles to draw you from, so…”

It was true, Even had been moving around this whole time, adjusting his position to sketching Isak from different angles, telling him to turn or tilt his head so the light hit him in different ways. Isak would roll his eyes, pretending to be exasperated, but he was starting to get used to it enough to enjoy the attention.

“Besides,” he went on, “each one of your features deserves its own tribute.” He sat up on his knees, leaning in until he was hovering over Isak, shading him from the sun as Isak blinked up at him. “Your lips…” he said, kissing him, first his upper lip, right on his cupid’s bow, then his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth just slightly before pulling back, making Isak chase after him and pout when he stayed just out of reach. “Your jaw…” he trailed his open lips over the line of Isak’s jaw, making his breath catch in his throat, his eyelids start to grow heavy. “Your nose…” he continued, stroking his pointer finger down the bridge of Isak’s nose, then widening his eyes and holding back a laugh. “Whoops.”

“What?!” Isak exclaimed, then glanced down to Even’s hand where it was still hovering by his face, and saw that his fingers were covered in charcoal. He opened his mouth in mock offense, scoffing as Even burst into laughter. “How dare you!” He said, then squealed as Even launched at him, kissing him again through his laughter and throwing them both off balance, ending up with Even propped up on his elbows, upper body hovering over Isak’s.

He pulled back and licked his thumb, using it to rub the charcoal smudge off of Isak’s nose.

“Ugh, ew,” he complained, scrunching up his nose and pretending half-heartedly to be disgusted.

Instead of getting up, Even dove in and fluttered quick, chaste kisses all over Isak’s neck, tickling him and making him squirm, shoving his shoulders up to try to protect his neck while laughing.

When Even pulled back, he grinned down at Isak, beaming brighter than the sun behind him. He flopped over on his back, taking Isak by the shoulder and pulling him along with him so that he ended up lying across Even’s chest.

Despite the slightly chilly air, the direct rays of the sun were pleasantly warm. Even sighed contentedly, closing his eyes and basking in the sunshine, holding Isak close with an arm across his back. Isak adjusted to get comfortable, hiking a leg up over both of Even’s to balance himself and beginning to lazily press kisses to his neck, moving down to his collar, tugging it aside to reach the skin of his upper chest. Even’s skin tasted salty and clean, and he was trailing his fingertips up and down Isak’s side, making him shiver.

When Isak kissed the column of his throat, he felt it vibrate as Even groaned softly, using his grip to hike Isak up so they were face to face. They kissed languidly, unhurried and deep, with no particular destination in mind, just enjoying the sensation of their lips sliding together, tongues tangling. Even buried one hand in Isak’s hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp absentmindedly, while his other hand trailed down to rest in the dip of the small of Isak’s back.

This was different, somehow; just the fact that they were lying down amplified them, made their kisses feel more intense than when they were merely standing next to each other. Isak found himself getting more and more into it, letting himself by pulled under by the tide of Even’s touch. All thoughts were chased from his head, and it was filled instead with Even’s scent, his taste, the feel of his solid form beneath him.

As they kissed, Isak began to feel the familiar warmth, the tightening in his lower stomach that came whenever Even was touching him. In his increasing enthusiasm, he didn’t even realize that he had started rocking against Even, moving his hips where they lay on top of Even’s thigh, not noticing until the feeling made him let out an involuntary little moan into Even’s mouth.

When he realized what he’d been doing, and how Even could most definitely feel him, hard, rocking against his thigh, he froze. Embarrassed, he broke their kiss and ventured a glance up at Even’s face to see his reaction, judge if he’d crossed a line. On the contrary, Even’s eyes were dark, pupils blown and glassy, looking at Isak like he desperately wanted him to continue. His eyes were drawn down to Even’s lips, red and swollen from kissing and shiny wet with spit, and he couldn’t help but dive back in.

Moving so that he was more fully on top of Even, he lined up their hips perfectly, merely the feeling of Even’s own hardness against him making him gasp sharply, his hips bucking automatically. Beneath him, Even groaned, nipping at his bottom lip, and as they continued to kiss, Isak let instinct take over, starting a slow, steady roll of his hips. The friction was lighting up his nerve endings, even through his thick trousers, and he clutched the collar of Even’s jacket, grounding himself.

Even’s hands migrated down to grip the swell of Isak’s ass, pulling him in slightly in time with his rhythm, encouraging him. It was all brand new to Isak, but it felt so natural, so right, like he was perfectly at home pressed against Even. They fit together, undeniably, like they were sculpted from clay specifically to do so.

It shouldn’t have affected him this much, simply grinding against Even through their clothes, but nevertheless, he was breathing heavily in no time, mouth open against Even’s cheek as his pace sped and his head spun. He didn’t think it could be attributed solely to his inexperience, either – something about doing this with _Even_ , in particular, was special.

Even was attending to his neck now, kissing and licking at its most sensitive spots, sucking a bruise under the collar of his shirt. He was talking, too, murmuring words that Isak couldn’t focus enough to wrap his mind around, but that sounded like encouragement.

Isak came silently, with a shudder, his eyes squeezed shut on a pleasured frown. His final aborted movements, prolonging his orgasm, pushed Even over the edge as well, gripping Isak’s hips hard with both hands.

“Shit,” Even panted, which Isak vehemently agreed with.

It took a few minutes before he had enough strength back in his limbs to climb off of Even and get back on his feet, wobbling a little before giving Even his hand and pulling him up.

They stumbled back inside, hand in hand, with the full intention to get cleaned up, but instead ended up falling asleep for an impromptu nap on the first semi-comfortable horizontal surface they bumped into.

Isak slapped his hand over his mouth, trying to contain his giggle. He didn’t intend to be mean, really, but it was just hilarious.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want my help?” he tried again, attempting not to sound patronizing.

Instead of an answer, Isak got a strained grunt in response as Even tried once more to hoist himself up into the saddle of the tall horse standing patiently next to him, chewing at its bit.

It had come as a surprise when Isak had learned that Even had never ridden a horse before – it was a main mode of transportation for those not wealthy enough to be taken around in private carriages – but he supposed it made sense with most of Even’s life being spent in downtown Oslo and the compact, canal-filled Amsterdam. He had seemed a bit dubious about Isak’s idea of going for a ride together, but Isak had managed to convince him, winning him over by hand-feeding him sweet candied walnuts the night before.

He almost felt bad now for putting Even in this position, because they hadn’t even mounted the horses and he was already struggling. Isak had suggested leading the horse over to a nearby fence so that Even could climb onto its rungs and mount from there, making it easier, but he insisted that he didn’t need any special accommodations.

As amusing as the sight of Even hopping around on one foot, with his other food stretched up past his hip to reach the stirrup was, after a certain point, Isak couldn’t watch him struggle on his own anymore, rolling his eyes and walking over with his own horse, taking hold of Even’s leg.

“Okay, come on. Listen, I’m going to help you up, on the count of three, you jump and I’ll push. Hands on either end of the saddle…there you go. One…two…three—”

With a grunt from both of them, Even finally managed to launch himself up and swing his other leg over, getting control and lowering himself into the saddle softly, just like Isak had told him to, he noticed proudly.

“Good! See, that wasn’t that hard, was it?” he chirped, and Even narrowed his eyes at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he grumbled.

As Isak was mounting his gelding – smoothly and without drama, he might add – Even’s horse started walking forwards, figuring, in the absence of any input from Even, that it was time for them to head off.

“Ah! It’s moving! What do I do?!” Even panicked, making Isak double over with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Isak!”

“Sorry, sorry! It’s fine Even, he’s not going anywhere. Just put some tension in the reins, gently, try to transfer your weight back a bit and say ‘whoa’.”

Following his instructions, Even managed to get the horse to come to a slow stop. His face when he looked back over at Isak almost made him burst into laughter again – he wasn’t used to seeing Even this out of his element, usually so cool and collected, that his wide eyes and teetering-on-terrified face were a treat.

He spent a few minutes correcting Even’s position, making sure that his seat would be solid and balanced, getting his feet underneath him and his heels down. Once they’d gone through that, and Isak had gone over the basic signals to the horse that Even would need to know, he seemed a bit more relaxed, getting used to the feeling of balancing up there on the horse’s back.

“Alright, now your job is easy. All you have to do is follow me, and the horse will basically do that on his own.” Even still looked a bit skeptical, but didn’t argue, and, taking that as agreement, Isak squeezed the horse with his lower legs, moving into a walk and passing by Even with a smirk.

It felt good to finally be in a situation where he was the one who knew what he was doing, where he could feel comfortable and confident. He felt proud to be able to show off his skill a bit in front of Even, and to be able to teach him something he didn’t know.

After they got across the road, ambling onto a particularly pleasant path that wound through woods and fields, Even seemed to relax, falling into the steady rhythm of the horse’s walking, letting himself be swayed back and forth, and when Isak looked back frequently to check on him, he was smiling, looking around and taking in the surroundings.

The trail opened up into a wider field, and Isak took the opportunity to fall back so that they could ride side by side, passing smiles and casual conversation in between periods of silence and enjoyment of the peaceful setting.

Feeling cocky, Even decided to try trotting at one point, not waiting for Isak’s instruction to rise and fall with the beat of the horse’s steps so that he ended up bouncing wildly, nearly losing balance and shouting, immediately regretting his decision. Isak laughed until he was wheezing, coming to terms with the fact that Even might not exactly be a natural at this, but he appreciated that he was trying, and putting up with Isak’s amusement at his expense.

When they got back and put the horses away, Even waddled back inside, wincing and complaining of being sore.

“Your muscles get used to it,” Isak shrugged, heading to the kitchen to prepare them a mid-afternoon snack.

It was like a dream, this time they had together, uninterrupted and untainted by any outside influence. It seemed like a miracle that they could spend their days like this, kissing outside in the open without fear, basking in each other’s company, no schedule and no constraints, just _being_ together in a way that felt like it was nourishing Isak’s soul.

Today was rainy and grey, drizzling all morning and casting the house in a dim quiet. The weather didn’t lend itself to much activity, much more suited for curling up under a blanket with a book, so that’s what they were doing. The two boys were tucked into the seat built into one of the windowsills in the library, leaning on opposite sides, legs tangled together in the middle under a thick woolen blanket.

Their books were lying open, face-down on their backs, set aside and forgotten early on in favor of talking in low voices, the words passed only between the two of them, as if speaking any louder would disturb the comfortable cloak of silence that the weather brought. Candles were flickering around them, lending some light and warmth to the space, though the light from outside still made the room overwhelmingly dim and grey in a comfortable sort of way. Their voices barely matched the volume of the raindrops tapping on the window, leaving room for the sound to come through, to fill the silences.

Somehow, their conversation had made its way to a subject Isak wouldn’t normally talk about – namely, his mother. He had been avoiding telling Even about her illness, whether consciously or not. But now, he felt comfortable saying it, like he had a safe space to do so, secure in the knowledge that by some stroke of luck Even really did want him, and want to know all parts of him. His feelings about his mother, especially in his younger years, had often been characterized by anger and resentment, but that wasn’t primarily what he felt when explaining her illness to Even, calmed and reassured by Even’s attentive, sympathetic gaze and his hand, holding Isak’s and stroking the back of it soothingly.

Marianne’s illness had caused him a lot of strife, it was true – he opened up to Even about the worry, the fear her outbursts had caused him, especially as a child when he really didn’t understand what was going on. But he knew that it really wasn’t her fault, that she suffered because of it too, and that her whole character as a person – both the good parts and the bad – went far beyond just her affliction. He hadn’t really realized that he had started crying until Even reached out and wiped a tear off his cheek with his thumb, Isak sniffling and blinking the tears away, wiping off the rest with the back of his hand and shaking his head.

“Sorry,” he said, wishing he could get rid of the pained look on Even’s face. “It really is okay, I don’t know why I’m crying. Things are much better now.”

Even didn’t say anything, just pulled him closer, letting his legs fall open so Isak could settle between them, surround himself with Even’s warmth.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, running his fingers through Isak’s curls, which he knew by now was an instant way to comfort him.

They fell back into silence for a minute, Isak staring out the window at the drops of rain making their unsteady way down the pane, playing absently with Even’s fingers in his lap. When he turned back, Even was already looking at him, and as soon as he did, he leaned in for a kiss. This time, it wasn’t a kiss of passion or desire, or even the giddy, butterfly-filled ones they’d shared before; rather, it was a kiss that felt like it meant something, that had words behind it, feelings.

When he pulled back, Even searched Isak’s face, staying close.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he stated, brushing his nose along Isak’s and taking a deep breath.

“I – I’ve never felt…anything like this, before,” he continued, looking Isak in the eyes when he did. He seemed almost nervous, like he never did, but sure of his words.

“Neither have I,” Isak whispered, feeling a sudden swell of emotion, of absolute certainty. His eyes were fixed on Even’s lips, and Even’s on his, and he let himself be drawn in, kissing him until he had to pull away to catch his breath.

Even looked confused when he pulled away and unfolded his legs, standing. Before he could talk himself out of it, Isak reached for Even’s hand and pulled him up, paying no mind to the blanket and their books falling to the floor as he kept his grip, leading Even along behind him.

When they crossed the threshold of his bedroom he turned around, walking backwards now, pulling a now wide-eyed Even in with him. He reached up to kiss Even again, weaving a hand in his hair to hold him close as he stepped back until his legs hit the edge of his bed. Releasing Even’s lips so he could sit down, he crawled back onto the middle of the bed, keeping Even’s hand in his grip as if there was a chance he would leave if he didn’t. Even was watching him carefully, and when Isak tugged on his hand, leaning back to lie on the bed, he hesitated before letting Isak pull him on top of him.

Hovering over him, propped on his elbows, Even raised his eyebrows questioningly. He didn’t need to say anything; Isak knew what he was thinking. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and gather the courage to say it out loud.

“I. I want to have sex. With you.” He gulped, waiting for Even to respond, who instead was frustratingly silent, eyes scanning his face.

He kissed Isak’s cheeks, then his lips, then pulled back again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Isak assured, his voice wobbling a little, but he fought to convey how certain he was of this. “I just want to be close to you,” he whispered, hoping the truth of the sentiment rang through.

He was a young man with needs and desires that Even constantly unlocked, sure, but what was really driving his decision was the growing need he had to feel as close to Even as possible. His heart ached for the intimacy, the concrete, physical manifestation of the feelings that had been growing ever since he first was entranced by Even’s words.

What he said apparently had the desired effect, because Even’s expression shifted, mirroring the certainty Isak felt inside.

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding, “Okay baby.”

As he captured Isak’s lips, he let his weight fall onto him, pressing him down into the mattress. The feeling simultaneously anchored him and excited him, making him feel grounded and safe while setting him alight with a sudden need for more.

He needed Even closer, he needed skin on skin. When he pushed back on Even’s chest, Even broke the kiss and pulled back immediately, his hands stopping in their tracks where they had been beginning to explore his body. Before Even got any idea that he might want this to stop, he tugged at Even’s shirt, trying to communicate what it was he wanted while his tongue felt too slow to form the words.

Luckily for him, Even was apparently adept at reading his attempts at communication, as he pressed a quick kiss to Isak’s jaw as if to reassure him before sitting up on his knees and pulling his shirt over his head. Isak’s hands were already scrambling at his own shirt, trying to tug it out of his trousers and silently cursing himself for deciding to tuck in his shirt today, but Even stilled them, taking his hands and placing them on the mattress next to his head and taking over himself. Isak didn’t even think of moving his hands, just lying there while Even methodically undid each button of his shirt, kissing each new bit of skin that was exposed to him. When he was done, he coaxed Isak up so that he could pull the fabric off of his arms and discard it.

Flopping back onto the mattress, Isak expected Even to be back on top of him now, and whined and grabbed at his arm when he wasn’t. Still sitting back, straddling Isak’s hips, Even shushed him gently, letting his eyes travel slowly over Isak’s now naked torso, making Isak flush all the way down his chest. He realized it was the first time Even had seen his naked chest, as well as the first time he had seen Even’s. Conflicted, he couldn’t decide what was stronger – his shyness at Even’s eyes on him so hungrily or his own desire to greedily take in all his eyes could now finally see.

Even’s skin was pale, almost translucent in the cool-toned light that the rainy day cast through the window, and Isak was reminded of the first time he ever saw him, when it had seemed to him that he was glowing. It struck him how elegant Even looked, like a work of art in his own right, a marble sculpture, created by someone with a steady hand and a fine eye for beauty. Reaching out, he ran his fingertips down Even’s stomach, feeling the strength under the skin, as well as the divots where it folded over on itself while Even was bent over, the slight imperfection turning Isak on more than it should have.

Even’s hands were all over him, skimming his sides, feeling his chest, brushing his thumbs over Isak’s nipples and making him gasp. In an instant, Even was back on him, kissing down his neck, all the way from the soft spot under his ear to the hollow at the base of his throat, mouthing along his clavicle, leaving behind a wet trail that felt icy in the slightly chilled air. Isak was just holding on for dear life, one hand buried in Even’s silky hair, the other grasping at his shoulder.

The heat between them was increasing as Even made his way down Isak’s chest, kissing and leaving bites where no one would be able to see. Isak kept trying to ramp up the pace, bucking his hips and letting out soft moans to try to spur Even on, but he was maintaining a frustratingly slow pace.

“Relax,” he whispered against Isak’s skin eventually, resting his chin on his stomach and looking up with a smirk. “We’ve got all the time in the world, you know.”

It certainly didn’t _feel_ like they had all the time in the world when Even finally got his hands on the waistband of Isak’s trousers, fingers steady while they deftly undid his belt buckle. Despite the apprehension he still felt about going farther with Even than he had before, this at least was familiar, and his body was more than ready for things to progress as soon as possible. When Even tugged his pants down enough to expose his hips, he took a moment to kiss his hipbone, then lick the dip next to it, so close that Isak felt his dick twitch.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back on the mattress with a thump, giving up on watching.

That was, until he felt Even’s lips close around him, hot and wet, and he whipped his head up to enjoy the sight.

“You’re so good at that,” he gasped, and he got the feeling Even would have smirked if his mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied. He made quick work of Isak, bringing him to the point of trembling thighs and gasping breaths before he knew it. But, as much as he wanted it, this wasn’t the end goal for tonight.

“Ah, Even, Even, you’ve got to stop or I’m going to come,” he panted.

Even popped off, instead nuzzling into Isak’s hip, humming happily before he crawled back up to eye-level.

“You taste so good,” he purred, and Isak groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Jesus, you can’t say that.”

Gently, Even took his wrist, moving his arm so that he could see Isak’s face. Something in Even’s gaze made Isak’s heart feel tight in his chest, something in the softness with which he looked at him, almost a reverence. Whatever it was – and Isak thought he had a pretty good idea – he knew that he was mirroring it right back at him.

Letting go of his wrist, Even brought his hand to Isak’s face, tracing the outline of his lips with his fingertips, pressing his thumb to the center of his bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. They were red and swollen, now, from so much kissing, but Isak had no complaints when Even kissed him again, not waiting this time to coax his mouth open, stroking his thumb over his cheek, so he could fill it with his tongue.

In this calm interim, Isak had time to overthink, to get lost in his worries a bit at what was to come. He knew he wanted this, he wanted it desperately, but still, he had so little knowledge of what to expect. He knew, vaguely, how sex between men would play out, but none of the books he had been able to find where particularly generous with the details.

Sensing the way Isak had tensed, stopped responding as much to his kisses, Even pulled back with a concerned frown.

“You’re nervous,” he stated.

Isak licked his lips, thinking about how to respond. “I just…I’ve never done this before.”

Even nodded, probably having guessed that from the start. “How much do you know, about…how this works?”

“Just the general idea,” Isak shrugged, trying not to feel embarrassed at his lack of experience, because he knew Even didn’t care.

Even was running his fingers through Isak’s hair as they talked, which was helping to calm him, soothe his nerves.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about the details. I’ll teach you.”

Isak nodded, blinking slowly, starting to be lulled by the steady rhythm of Even’s strokes to his temple.

“Maybe it would be best for you to fuck me, since it’s your first time? Would you like that, angel?”

The idea was certainly appealing; he shuddered when he imagined what it would feel like to sink into Even, feel him clench around him. But after really considering it, he realized that it wasn’t what he wanted. He would feel more comfortable if Even took control, lead him through this new experience. Even had his full trust; he knew that he would take care of him.

Isak shook his head, not meeting Even’s eyes, instead watching his own fingers as they traced nervous patterns over Even’s arm.

“No, I think I…I would rather do it the other way around.” He blushed, unable to bring himself to say the actual words, but Even didn’t push him to. “I trust you,” he added, and Even nodded, seeming to understand the thoughts behind his words.

“Okay. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

He started by kissing Isak dizzy, taking his mind off of everything else. Isak vaguely registered Even’s hand skimming down his chest and stomach until it was resting on his hip, stroking at his hipbone and the slight curve of his waist.

“First, I need to prepare you, stretch you out,” Even explained, pulling back. Isak nodded; he had anticipated that part.

“I, uh, I brought some oil in here, earlier…”

Even arched an eyebrow. “You were planning for this, huh?” he asked, his voice low and a bit gravelly, making Isak bite his lip to stop an embarrassing noise from escaping.

Once he’d found it, Even returned to his place on top of Isak.

“Just relax, focus on me and I’ll take care of everything else.” Even started to move down, but before he could, Isak caught his face, cupping his cheek and kissing him once more. They lingered there for a moment, eyes fluttered closed and breaths mingling, before they parted, sharing a warm glance before Even pulled back and crawled down until he was settled between Isak’s legs, by his hips.

Putting his mouth around him again, Even distracted him with pleasure while his hands crept between his thighs, pushing them open wider. A wet finger appeared at his entrance – not cold, though; Even must have warmed the oil before touching him. Even stroked him, just with the pad of his finger, rubbing and massaging until he got used to the feeling of being touched there. Once he had relaxed sufficiently, Even slowly pushed his finger inside while swirling his tongue around Isak’s head.

Despite the distraction, Isak tensed up a bit at the intrusion – it was a strange feeling, unfamiliar, not painful but not exactly comfortable. Even noticed, redoubling his attentions to Isak’s cock while using his other hand to run soothingly over his upper thigh.

After a minute, it stopped feeling so odd, Even wiggling his finger around and beginning to move it in and out as Isak relaxed. He pulled off of his dick to catch his breath, looking up to check how Isak was doing.

“Everything okay so far?” he asked, and Isak nodded.

Tenderly, he kissed along Isak’s thigh before adding another finger along with the first. It was more uncomfortable, this time, and a harder slide in. Even stilled his hand, and just petted Isak’s hip and told him to breathe, flooding him with encouraging words until he had relaxed enough for him to push in the rest of the way.

“So tight,” Even murmured, almost to himself. “I’m the first one to ever touch you here, huh? Gonna make it so good for you baby, I promise.”

At a certain point, when Isak was frowning at the ceiling in concentration, trying to relax his muscles and wondering when this was going to start feeling good, Even thrust his fingers in deeper than they had gone before and crooked them slightly, pulling a gasp from Isak and making his body jerk.

He was about to ask what the hell that was when he felt the puff of Even’s breath against his thigh and looked down to see him chuckling to himself. He did it again, stroking that spot with his fingertips, and Isak made a sound he’d never made before, curling his toes and grabbing the sheets beneath him.

“What-?” he panted, and Even grinned, nipping his skin playfully.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, as if he needed any more confirmation.

Instead of answering, Isak moaned softly and stretched, and almost blacked out when Even licked a wide strip up the underside of his cock while moving his fingers.

After a while of Even thrusting his fingers, brushing that spot occasionally and using his other hand and mouth to attend to Isak’s body in other ways, Isak felt something start to stir inside of him. The pace was still slow, still careful and gentle; Even was playing close attention to Isak’s physical signals and making sure he was comfortable, but still, he felt the temperature within himself rising. It was feeling good now, starting to feel _really_ good; Even’s fingers were long and strong and just as skilled as he’d imagined they would be. It was all still new and a bit foreign, but he found himself starting to rock back on Even’s fingers, chasing them.

“Could- could you come up here?” he managed through his pants, stretching his hand out for Even, for some reason feeling like he needed him closer when he was feeling so much.

Even complied, having a little difficulty maintaining a workable angle with his fingers while also crawling up to eye-level with Isak. He smiled, a bit of a smirk, when he saw Isak’s face, which must have been flushed and betraying how affected he was. Isak grabbed Even’s shoulder, just to have something solid to hold on to, and leaned into Even’s free hand as he brought it up to stroke his face.

He didn’t stop the movement of his fingers, thrusting them smoothly as Isak’s hips rolled to meet them.

“I think I’m ready now,” he whispered, growing impatient. If just Even’s fingers were feeling this good, he couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be truly filled by him.

Kissing his cheek, Even shook his head. “A while longer baby, I want to make sure you’re nice and stretched.”

Isak blushed at the words, but was interrupted by a sharp gasp when he felt a twinge of discomfort, almost pain, as Even worked a third finger in. A divot appeared between his brows as he frowned, shifting a little and trying to adjust to the feeling. To distract him, Even leaned in to kiss his neck, sucking on the most sensitive, soft spot there that always made Isak melt. Now was no exception, and Isak found himself relaxing enough for Even to push just a bit further, wincing a bit at the stretch, which caused Even to pause and work at his neck some more, and so on until he was comfortable enough for Even to start moving them smoothly in and out.

Isak had to take a deep breath to steady himself, to clear his mind for a moment of the haze Even had put him in. It felt almost surreal, being here, doing this with him. The rain was still pattering on the window, the light still coating them in grays, the room a bit cold. He wanted to remember this moment forever. Closing his eyes, he focused on the feeling of Even’s lips on his neck and collarbone, the cool trail they left behind, his breath puffing soft on his skin, his fingers stretching him, starting to send sparks of pleasure up his spine again.

When Even whispered his name, softly, almost like he thought he was asleep and didn’t want to wake him, Isak’s eyelids fluttered open. It filled him with an inexplicable warmth that Even’s eyes, inches from his, were the first things he saw when he did.

“I think I’ve prepared you enough now, but I can continue if you want, or if it would make you more comfortable.”

Isak shook his head with a shaky smile, trying to cover up the sudden reemergence of his nerves as the reality of it hit him. But he trusted Even, knew that he wouldn’t want to hurt him, so if he said he was ready, it was probably as ready as he’d ever be.

It struck Isak then that he wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to do next – how was he expected to be positioned for this part? He looked to Even, hoping for some sort of signal that he could follow, but Even was just staring at him with a dazed, almost drunken smile.

“Should I…should I turn around?” he asked hesitantly.

“No – I mean, if you would like to, of course, but I would love to be able to see your face. Especially since this is your first time.”

The thought of being face to face with Even, being able to look into his eyes, felt much better to him than the idea of being taken from behind right now, so he nodded quickly.

“Okay, yeah. I think I would prefer that too.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Even checked, watching him seriously.

“Please,” he simply breathed.

When Even slid his fingers out, he felt strangely empty, and wanted them back immediately. He felt himself clenching around thin air, stretched and ready and waiting. He whined slightly when Even lifted himself off of him, just for a moment so he could remove his own trousers, which Isak had honestly kind of forgotten was a necessary step to the process. With that, it had also escaped his mind that he had never actually seen this part of Even before, and before he knew it, Even was kneeling before him fully naked. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, at Even’s beauty but also, once his eyes travelled down, at the size of his cock, standing hard against his belly. He gulped, thankful now that Even had been so insistent on preparing him more.

Reaching up, he pulled Even toward him by the back of his neck, not wanting him so far away, even though he knew Even was just trying to get them in the right position.

Letting his legs go slack so Even could move them where he wanted, Even did his best to maneuver himself to kneel between them while Isak wouldn’t let their faces separate. Taking his ankles in both his hands, Even pushed his bent legs up towards his chest, letting them fall into the crooks of his elbows.

Even let the weight of his upper body fall against Isak again, leaning on his elbows, bracketing Isak’s head. There were no steps left to take now, Isak was pretty sure, so he took a deep breath and held it, waiting.

Instead of sinking into him, Even stayed still, searching his face and frowning down at him.

“Isak, breathe.”

Isak blinked, complying, trying to take good, deep breaths for Even. He didn’t really know why he was tense; everything was going just as he wanted it to, and better than he could have expected. His whole body wanted this to continue, but he couldn’t help his nerves, his overthinking. Until Even worked his magic. He paused, letting a quiet moment tick by as he nudged Isak’s nose with his own, staring at him with eyes full of sweetness. Isak could feel Even’s breath, both brushing against his skin and by the gentle rise and fall of his chest, pressed against Isak’s, and he found himself following it, falling into rhythm with Even without thinking.

After a minute, his heartbeat had slowed, his thoughts as well. His hips had started to rock of their own accord, his body beginning to whisper its desires more loudly, no longer to be ignored.

He didn’t have to say anything, which was good, because he wasn’t sure anymore that he could. His tongue felt heavy, mind molasses, any coherent thought having to wade its way through a sea of Even. Reading his thoughts, Even leaned down to kiss him while he shifted his weight onto one elbow, reaching the other arm down between them, guiding himself until Isak felt a blunt pressure at his entrance.

Even didn’t stop kissing him as he pushed in, even as Isak stopped responding to it, his mouth falling open and brow knitting at the stretch. He went very slowly, carefully, stroking Isak’s cheek with his thumb as he went, and pausing as soon as he’d gotten just the head in.

“Are you okay?” he checked, pulling back to examine Isak’s face.

Isak didn’t respond for a moment, thinking it over. It did hurt a bit; Even was larger than his fingers and felt even larger inside of him. But he took a deep breath, focusing on relaxing, wiggling his hips a little and wincing when he did. Still, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Just to be sure, Even grabbed some extra oil, coating himself more to ease the slide before he dropped back down, his lips returning to their home on Isak’s as he gradually sank in further. The pressure increased, as did the discomfort, and Isak realized that he was gripping Even’s arm tightly, digging his fingernails in, when Even stopped and pulled back again.

“Isak? Does it hurt?” he asked, and frowned when Isak shrugged.

“A little. But, I mean, isn’t it supposed to?”

Even sighed, looking upset, and Isak immediately wanted to apologize, but for what, he wasn’t sure.

“Isak, there is no possible situation in which I am supposed to hurt you,” he said gently. “Please, please tell me if I am.”

Isak nodded and Even starting skimming his hands over his sides, rubbing his thighs soothingly, waiting for him to relax enough that his small frown disappeared, followed by Even’s thumb rubbing the spot that had been creased on his forehead. Even shifted enough to get a hand around Isak between their bellies, just stroking him loosely, but enough to fan the embers of the desire that had been momentarily forgotten.

When he started up once again, only after making Isak assure him that it didn’t hurt anymore, he kept a careful eye on his face, watching his every expression for hints of discomfort.

It seemed like ages before Even was fully inside of him, their hips finally pressing together, and they both gasped at once. Isak searched blindly for Even’s lips, landing on them crookedly and kissing him messily but it was what he needed, and Even seemed to need it too. His legs slipped down from Even’s arms, and instead he wrapped them around Even’s waist, keeping him close, as if there was any chance of him going away now.

“Shit,” Even breathed, his voice shaky. “You feel…you feel amazing.”

Isak lifted his chin to get another kiss, and Even obliged.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

He was. The feeling was still a bit overwhelming; he felt so full and stretched, like Even had carved out a place for himself within his body. It would take some getting used to, but he was already starting to like it.

“Yeah. It’s a lot. Feels really full. But I’m good.”

Even peppered his face with kisses, almost enough to make him giggle if he weren’t so stunned into silence by the feeling of being so completely joined with Even. Even didn’t make any moves to start thrusting, and Isak didn’t encourage him, needing a minute to adjust and to bring himself back to earth. After a moment, he shifted his hips experimentally, wanting to see how it would feel, and Even groaned and buried his face in the crook of Isak’s neck. He noticed, now, how tensed Even’s muscles were, and realized how much effort it must have been taking him to keep still.

With a rush of sudden tender feelings, he stroked Even’s hair, smiling when he nuzzled his neck in response. He could feel Even everywhere, pressed skin-to-skin along his whole body, his lips brushing his neck, making room inside of him like he had found a new home between Isak’s thighs.

As he got used to the feeling, any lingering discomfort faded, and he found himself really wanting Even to move. The mere feeling of being filled by him was so intense, so unexpectedly good, that he was anxious to know what it would feel like to get some friction on that spot inside of him that had had him seeing stars earlier.

“You can move,” he whispered, Even so close and the house so quiet that he barely had to make a sound to be heard. He was running his fingers through Even’s locks, looking at him hazily, eyes wet and unfocused.

Even looked like he wasn’t quite sure he believed him, pausing, so Isak used his legs around Even’s waist to pull him in closer, egging him on. When Even finally shifted, pulling his hips back and then slowly thrusting them forward, Isak gasped, grabbing at Even’s shoulders until his fingernails left half-moon indents in his skin. It felt incredible, and weird, and so deeply intimate, and he didn’t want it to ever stop.

Even started out with a slow, steady rhythm, his hips moving gently as he kissed Isak repeatedly, pulling back every few moments to look at him, then diving back in, mouthing along his neck, nipping at his earlobe. He was starting to feel the same pleasure he had been introduced to earlier, stemming from so deep inside of him and radiating through his whole body. Every breath was a gasp, every sound that spilled from his mouth drenched with bliss. When he met Even’s eyes, each time he felt like there was no space between them whatsoever, like they were merged into one, fundamentally entangled now with no hope of ever parting.

“Even,” he sighed, just to say his name.

“Mm?” Even responded, moving to his neck, tugging on his hair slightly, making Isak moan.

“I… _ah_ …it feels really good,” he panted. “I didn’t…I didn’t know it would be like this.” He paused. The feelings swirling within him were intense, almost overwhelming, and they weren’t just physical. “Is it always like this?”

Even paused, slowing his hips to a deep roll while he pulled away to look at him, searching his face with glassy eyes. He was wearing a slight frown, like he was thinking. “No. It’s never been like this.”

Before Isak could ask what he meant, discern if Even was feeling the same things he was, Even was shifting, wrapping his arms under Isak and around his back and pulling him closer, almost cradling him to his chest as he picked his thrusts back up.

Whatever had momentarily passed between them, it made everything now feel heightened, their movements filled with passion. The friction inside of him had Isak sweating and trembling, rocking back against Even, twisting his hips and trying to get ever closer, and the emotions that were quickly rising within his made his chest feel tight, unexpected but undeniable.

The joy he felt, the comfort and fulfillment of being this close to Even, was coupled with a sense of tenderness and appreciation for the way Even held him in his arms, how softly and attentively he treated him, and he felt the slight prick of tears at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t used to having anyone look at him the way Even did, or touch him in more than just a utilitarian manner, and it filled his heart with warmth.

As they moved together in cold silence of Isak’s sparse bedroom, he thought that he had a name for those feelings that were taking over, that had been growing for a while now. He turned the name over in his head, considering it, imagined how it would feel on his tongue. He couldn’t say it aloud, not yet, but the knowledge that it was true settled and planted itself like a seed in his mind.

Even’s rhythm began to falter, and he pulled an arm out from under Isak to wind it between their bodies and stroke him until he arched his back and came, Even following closely.

Even kissed him while he pulled out gingerly, soothing Isak’s whimper at the feeling, before collapsing on his side beside him. They were both panting, catching their breaths, but Even still reached over to grab Isak and pull him in, tucking him against his chest as they waited to recover enough to speak.

They smiled at each other, breaking into laughter almost giddily. Even reached out to pet his cheek with his thumb, then kissed him, stroking his jaw.

“Was that alright?” he asked, turning serious. “Do you feel okay?” His hand moved down to rub up and down Isak’s side.

Isak nodded. He felt slightly sore, but not in a bad way, and every inch of skin still felt sensitive in the aftermath of his orgasm. “That was wonderful,” he replied. Now that the heat of the moment was over, it made him feel slightly embarrassed and shy again to think about what they had just done, and how much he had liked it.

“You’re still blushing,” Even murmured, “even after that.” There was an amused glint in his eye, one eyebrow arched is disbelief.

Isak bit his lip and shrugged. It still made his heart flutter to talk about.

“You’re precious,” Even smiled, and drew him in to kiss him again, soft and lazily until both of them were nearly floating off, lulled by the quiet drip of rain and the comforting warmth of each other.

Even rolled onto his back, pulling Isak with him, and they shifted around until Isak was half draped on his chest, head resting comfortably in the crook of his shoulder.

“We should sleep,” Even mumbled, sounding like he was halfway there already.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Isak protested weakly, all while nuzzling closer and yawning, his eyes closed.

It wasn’t long before they both drifted off to sleep anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Isak was nervous about the meeting, for a number of reasons, but mainly dominated by the fear that it would come off as odd and suspicious that Even was hanging out at Isak’s house while his parents were away, and, as a secondary worry, that Jonas and Even wouldn’t like each other for some reason. He didn’t have long to worry, however, and he and Even had only just gotten dressed and ready by the time there was a knock on the door in a playful rhythm."

Isak remembered almost too late the next morning that Jonas was supposed to be coming over that day. They had made the plans before Isak’s parents announced they would be out of town and he had nearly forgotten since – they were going to head into the city together and try to find new clothing for an upcoming autumn celebration, both of them having outgrown their nicer outfits from previous years, and neither of their mothers deemed anything else they had acceptable. The plan had been to make a day out of it, since they had to make the walk in the first place, and it was certainly too late to cancel.

In a momentary panic, Isak shot up from the bed where he and Even had been lounging, lazing about while Even fed him pieces of fruit, insisting on doing it by hand, probably so he could chase the fruits with kisses and lick the juices off of his own fingers – and once, Isak’s chin, to his chagrin.

“Shit,” he stated, to a confused Even who actually still had not gotten dressed or set foot out of the bed since their early snooze the previous afternoon. Isak made sure to tease him thoroughly for his indolence, though really he couldn’t say he had a problem with Even lying around naked, draped with his sheets.

Rather than explaining, Isak put his hands on his hips and huffed, thinking. He could handle the situation one of two ways – have Even stay here, tucked away in secret while Isak spent the day with Jonas, or, _maybe_ , he could actually have to two meet each other, introduce them and then take Even along on their outing. Even, for his part, waited patiently, snacking on a few remaining strawberries and watching the gears turn in Isak’s head.

He _wanted_ Even to meet his best friend, and vice versa. He had a good feeling that they would get along, and having Jonas meet Even just felt important somehow, like it was bringing Even one more, safe, step closer into his life. Jonas wouldn’t know the true nature of their relationship, obviously; Isak still hadn’t even begun to think about that possibility, or how Jonas might react. But still, it would open things up for Even to be more naturally around him outside of the portrait, make him a little less of a secret, and the idea of that felt like a weight lifted off of Isak’s shoulders.

“Okay,” he said to himself, but aloud, realizing when he finally looked back out and snapped out of his rapid decision-making session that Even was still blinking at him blankly. “Oh. Right. Uh, so I forgot that my best friend – Jonas – is coming over in…shit, like thirty minutes. We were going to go shopping in the city, so you could just stay here if you want, but…I was thinking maybe you could meet him, and come with us?”

“I mean, you don’t have to,” he started backtracking nervously, “if you’d rather stay here, I’m sure it sounds boring, it’s totally fine if you—”

“Isak,” Even stopped him, getting up – and Isak didn’t _not_ notice that he left the sheet behind, leaving him totally naked in the middle of his room, but now was really not the time for that – and walking over to him, taking hold of his upper arms. “Don’t be silly, of course I would love to meet your friend.”

Isak’s face lit up. “Oh. Cool,” he grinned, and Even beamed back.

Isak was nervous about the meeting, for a number of reasons, but mainly dominated by the fear that it would come off as odd and suspicious that Even was hanging out at Isak’s house while his parents were away, and, as a secondary worry, that Jonas and Even wouldn’t like each other for some reason. He didn’t have long to worry, however, and he and Even had only just gotten dressed and ready by the time there was a knock on the door in a playful rhythm.

They walked to the door together, Even’s hand on the small of Isak’s back, seeming to sense his nervousness. He pulled it away when they reached the door, giving him a smile and darting in to kiss his cheek one last time before Isak opened it.

“Hey Is!” Jonas greeted cheerfully. Isak saw his gaze slide over to Even, standing slightly behind him, and quickly broke in to resolve his clear confusion.

“Jonas, this is Even, the artist who is painting the portrait of me, and…my friend. I figured he could join us.”

Jonas nodded good naturedly, stretching a hand out to Even to shake and introducing himself. No swords had been drawn yet, at least.

Isak didn’t miss the way Jonas looked Even up and down appraisingly, or the way Even drew himself up to his full height, and he narrowed his eyes at their posturing. He didn’t want them to see each other as threat or competition, but he wasn’t too worried; both were friendly enough that they would more than likely be at ease with each other quickly.

The tailor that Jonas had decided to take them to, at his sister’s recommendation, apparently, turned out to be quite the quirky shop, with brightly painted orange walls and textiles draped off of chairs and doorframes and wardrobes. A strange, small, wiry old man helped them, darting back and forth across the shop and grabbing things for them to try. He would dress them, step back and take a look, and then run across the shop again, hunting around in the mess for whatever it was he was looking for. He gave a running commentary as well, speaking rapidly and non-stop, and none of them could decide if he was speaking to them or himself.

When no one else was looking, everyone busy bustling around and trying on clothing, Even would catch Isak’s eye from across the room where he was watching with amusement, and Isak would smile, trying not to laugh as they silently communicated. He was trying on a particularly nice tunic, a deep green that the tailor said highlighted his hair and eyes, and made the mistake of looking up to Even while the man was in front of him, messing with the seams. Even was staring at him, eyes lidded heavily and dark, the outfit’s effect on him undisguised. The sight made Isak’s mouth go dry and a blush rise on his cheeks right away, and he looked down as soon as he could manage to break his gaze away from Even’s, hoping that no one had noticed, but smiling to himself nonetheless.

After moderate success purchasing new clothes, Jonas had the brilliant idea to grab food from one of the stalls in the street, which they carried with them and ate while they strolled down to the seaside. As they walked and chatted, they stumbled upon a topic that Even and Jonas were both interested in, and from there they were off, talking passionately and gesticulating wildly and all but forgetting about Isak, who dropped behind and rolled his eyes at them fondly. It was a relief that they were getting along, so he couldn’t really find it in him to be annoyed. Besides, listening to Even talk excitedly like that was one of his favorite things.

Before they parted ways, Isak and Jonas found a quiet moment more-or-less to themselves, to catch up and say their goodbyes.

“Even’s nice,” Jonas commented. Isak tried not to show how happy the approval made him.

“He is,” he nodded.

“Are you doing well?” Jonas asked sincerely, always showing concern for Isak and wanting to check in with him.

Isak took a deep breath through his nose, smelling the sea air and feeling the way it stung his nostrils a little. He smiled and nodded, thinking about all the things he wished that he could tell his best friend. Like the fact that he’d just lost his virginity yesterday, or that he was pretty sure he was falling in love. But he couldn’t tell him those things, so he settled for a surface-level response, updating him on his recent mundane goings-on.

When he and Even got close enough back to the house that no one would be around to see them, Even moved to walk closer to him and then took his hand, lacing their fingers together for the duration of the journey home.

The two weeks, as a whole, were pretty much pure bliss. The days floated by, just between them, the rest of the world locked outside and forgotten. There really wasn’t much else for two boys to do, left to their own devices with a whole property at their disposure, than to eat, sleep, and fuck, so that was what they did. It was fourteen days of indulgence, the two of them simply basking in each other’s company as fully as they could. Isak made it to a couple of his classes, but not most of them – he was just too happy in his little cocoon with Even to open himself up to the outside world. It felt like a dream, like an impossibility, to be so carefree together, and all their actions seemed to be accompanied by little satisfied sighs and lazy smiles.

One morning, they were lying in bed, drifting in between sleep and quiet, yawning conversation, Even stroking Isak’s hair in a way that made it incredibly difficult to stay awake, when Even had an idea. A great one, he would say – but Isak disagreed.

“Even, that’s ridiculous,” he groaned, cheeks already hot, and the rest of him warming too.

“It’s not, it’s _artistic_ ,” Even argued, making Isak roll his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t flustered.

Isak flopped down on the bed, hiding his face in the sheets. The problem was, Even’s proposal actually intrigued him. Truthfully, his ears had perked up immediately when he had said it, and the idea had his heart beating faster. But he found himself getting shy at the prospect, despite knowing rationally that there was nothing left to hide between them, no part of him Even hadn’t seen and touched and kissed. Still, this was different. And hot. He bit his lip and peeked up at Even from under his arm.

Isak found himself, not even ten minutes later, lying naked on the library floor, a sheet beneath him, draped just so. He was pretty sure his entire body was blushing, at this point, and he felt absolutely ridiculous, waiting as Even excitedly laid out his paints and brushes.

Even had started a fire in the library fireplace before they had begun, worrying that Isak would be cold, and to be honest, he was already appreciating it. The fire was roaring and heated the room to a cozy warmth, comfortable even with no clothes.

At this point, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted Even’s eyes on him or off of him. On one hand, he felt especially awkward lying here naked like this when the person he was doing it for wasn’t even paying attention to him yet, but on the other, once Even was looking at him, he’d be _looking_ at him. He squirmed, then stopped himself when he realized he was messing up the sheet – Even had been very specific about exactly how he wanted it draped to look best.

“Even,” he finally whined, deciding he wanted attention when Even switched out his paint selection once again, still not having glanced at him once since he took of his clothes and laid down there.

Even looked up, his eyes shamelessly trailing down Isak’s body, catching on his hips before sliding back up. If Isak had been feeling a bit ignored a moment earlier, he wasn’t anymore. Even’s gaze darkened the moment he looked at him, and Isak noticed his hand twitch, like he was fighting the urge to reach out and forget this whole painting thing.

“Yes?” he asked.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just lie there and look pretty,” Even grinned, “which you’re already doing.”

Isak rolled his eyes emphatically. “Okay, but really.”

Eyes glinting playfully, and a bit hungrily, Even put down his palette and pretended to sigh, crawling over to Isak on his hands and knees.

“Do you need instruction, is that it?” he teased. “Want me to position you like some clay figurine?”

That was, actually, exactly what he wanted, and he nodded defiantly. Even leaned over him, bending down to kiss him quickly, just a tease, before he sat up on his knees and his whole demeanor shifted into artist-mode, serious and squinting at Isak appraisingly, tiling his head this way and that.

“Okay,” he said, reaching over to grab some pillows and throwing them around Isak, pulling him up by the shoulder to slide a couple of them under him, propping him up slightly. Isak tried to lie naturally, paying attention to the curve of his waist, pushing his shoulder forward a little to emphasize the line of his collarbone in a way he thought Even would appreciate.

“Good,” Even nodded, eyes lighting up as Isak could see his mind working, the scene he was going to paint beginning to roll out in his imagination. He made a few small adjustments, Isak just letting his limbs go limp so Even could move them, position them just so.

“Are you comfortable?” Even asked. “This should be a position you can relax in, so it looks natural.”

Isak nodded, deliberately relaxing his muscles, settling in.

Even painted him sitting cross-legged on the floor, canvas propped up against a chair next to him. He painted more quickly, less methodically than usual, using broader, smooth strokes. Every time he would glance up from his work to look at Isak, his glance would linger a little longer than it needed to, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to break it away. It was making him less efficient, but it also had Isak rather flattered. Sure, he had pretty good evidence at this point that Even found him attractive, that he wanted him, but still, it was something else to be looked at like that, everything exposed, vulnerable enough that he thought he could almost feel the brush of Even’s eyes skating over him.

After a few minutes, Even paused, putting down his brush and fixing Isak with a direct gaze.

“Do you even realize how beautiful you are?” He ran his eyes down Isak’s body, slowly and deliberately. “Every inch of you...is perfect. I could paint nothing but you for the rest of my days and be satisfied.”

With that, he simply picked his brush up again and got back to work, leaving Isak to blink rapidly in an effort not to completely swoon at the words. His whole body felt hot now, and he felt himself glancing over at the fire, wishing it would die out a little, as if that were the source of the heat, when he knew otherwise.

Not long after, apparently intent on completely dismantling Isak from afar, Even paused again, looking up at him thoughtfully, pursing his lips like he was considering something, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told Isak what to expect.

“It’s amazing, the way the light hits you,” he said, voice low. “How it skims over that lovely bone structure, highlighting it. It’s one of my favorite things about painting you. Oh! And your hair. God, those curls. You know, the first time I laid eyes upon you, I thought you must be an angel.”

Isak’s breath caught in his throat at that.

Even’s expression was earnest, eyes wide, but by the hint of a smirk on his lips, Isak could tell that he knew the effect his words were having as well. It was probably obvious, his face now certainly blushing deeply, and possibly the rest of him too. If he should have been embarrassed that he could be seduced by just words and looks, he wasn’t.

He bit his lip, breaths coming deeper, his body beginning to grow restless as Even returned to his painting once more, pretending to be completely focused, unaffected. Isak, on the other hand, was lost in the heady feeling of Even’s smooth words and heated gaze.

The next time Even broke his concentration, Isak’s heart sped in anticipation, both wanting the praise and shying away from it, not sure how much more he could handle.

“Your skin is so smooth,” he said, voice so low now that it was half-whisper, “and so pretty when you blush all over, like now.” His eyes flicked down, over Isak’s body, and it was pure torture, all these words with promises behind them and none of Even’s touch. He was starkly aware that he was starting to get hard at this point, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. It took significant effort to keep his legs from closing reflexively, knowing Even would notice one way or another. When he did, Isak watched as his eyes widened slightly and his lips parted on a breath.

“You know, the first time I met you, and you blushed like that, I couldn’t help but think how badly I wanted to see you do it again, tangled in my sheets, gasping with pleasure.”

“Even,” Isak breathed, a plea for him to do something, carried in a single word.

Even must have heard the desperation in his voice, because he put down his palette and brush right away, sensing what Isak wanted and getting right to it. He gave a sigh that sounded like a release of pent-up tension, like he had been waiting for an excuse to abandon the pretense and crawl his way over to Isak like he was currently doing, closing the space between them.

It was almost reminiscent of a stalking cat, the way Even lithely moved towards him, darkened eyes focused with a sharp intensity on his target, and when he pounced on him, Isak couldn’t help but gasp and jerk.

Even bracketed him with his arms, hovering over him so the loose fabric of his shirt just brushed against Isak’s bare chest. He let only a moment go to waste before diving in to kiss him, claiming his mouth firmly. Letting his weight fall on Isak suddenly, he was pressed into the pillows with a huff, struggling to keep up with the fast escalation of Even’s kisses into something deep and passionate. When he pulled back to let them both catch their breath, he laughed, making quite the beautiful picture with his lips red from kissing, his hair mussed and catching the sunlight.

“Isak,” he sighed, “you’ve made it absolutely impossible for me to finish my painting,” he complained, kissing Isak between words, on his lips, jaw, neck.

“ _I’ve_ made it impossible?!” he exclaimed, scoffing through his grin. “You’re the one who’s been saying all those…those ridiculous things, getting me all worked up!”

Even grinned, his sharp canines showing.

“Well what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t have you lying there, looking like that, and just…God, how can I just _paint_ when all I want is to is devour you, to just lick every inch of you, all right there in front of me?”

“I don’t know how other painters do it,” he continued, feigning seriousness. “How they manage to actually just paint their beautiful young models, and not fall in love every time. Or at least in lust. Well,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “I suppose none of them are as lovely as you.”

Isak rolled his eyes, groaning, and threw his hands over his face, embarrassed, but very pleased. He could feel the shaking of Even’s silent laughter against his chest, and then felt him sliding down a bit so he could kiss Isak’s shoulder and collarbone.

Sighing, Even rested his chin in the middle of Isak’s chest and looked up at him, blinking coquettishly.

“Well, it will just have to be my great unfinished work,” he said with a dramatic flourish. “All of the great artists have one, anyway.”

Isak snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, and you’re one of the great artists now, are you?” he teased.

Even gasped in mock offense, pushing him back up to be level with Isak’s face. “Yes!”

Before Isak could say anything else, he dove in and started fluttering kisses all over the soft spot on Isak’s neck that he knew was sensitive, tickling him and making him shriek, scrunching up his shoulder and dissolving into laughter as he flailed, trying to push Even off.

Suddenly, Even slowed and switched the tone entirely, breathing hot against Isak’s neck, making him shiver, trailing his lips up before licking just below his ear, sucking his earlobe into his mouth. It brought them right back to where they had left off, to the tension so great it had nothing left to do but burst. Isak gasped and tilted his head back, offering more of his neck to Even, squirming under his weight now for an entirely different reason.

“Please,” he whispered when Even pulled back.

“Please what?”

“Please,” he repeated.

After a moment’s pause, Even nodded. “Anything, anything for you.”

Neither of them payed any mind to the paint on Even’s hands as he gave Isak exactly what he needed, finally touching the skin he had bared for him. The carefully-arranged sheet was disheveled beneath them as they tangled together, giving no attention to anything but each other.

Isak’s eyelids fluttered, heavy and difficult to keep open. Every muscle was relaxed, like he couldn’t move if he wanted to, and he was lulled by the low, warm flickering of candles filling the room, the soft lapping of water against the sides of the tub, the feeling of Even’s fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

He felt more than heard Even’s chuckle, his chest warm against his back.

“Are you going to fall asleep?” he asked, tucking his head against Isak’s neck, pressing a kiss to his curls.

“No,” Isak protested, though he wasn’t at all sure it was true.

Even hummed, sounding unconvinced, and picked up the bar of soap, rubbing it in his hands and then massaging the suds into Isak’s hair methodically, making sure to get every strand. His body was… _mostly_ free of the streaks of paint that had colored his skin all over, thanks to Even’s diligent scrubbing, which he halfheartedly insisted he could do himself. They had both broken into giggles when they first stood in front of a mirror afterwards and saw the extent of the issue, Isak teasing Even for forgetting that he was supposed to be painting on the canvas and not him, and Even nipping at his jaw and retorting that he hadn’t exactly seemed to mind.

A bath was the only option, the paint already dry by the time they managed to unwrap themselves from their pile of postcoital bliss on the floor. He had blushed and hesitated initially when Even had simply slipped into the tub and gestured for Isak to join him, parting his legs to make room for him, but Even won over his shyness easily, as always.

“You know, I don’t usually sleep well,” Isak mused, yawning. “I’m always tossing and turning and staying up all night because my mind just won’t shut up about all the things that are wrong. But I do with you. All of a sudden it’s easy.”

Even paused in washing Isak’s hair, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him back to his chest.

“Well, then I’ll come and sleep with you every night,” he said, kissing his cheek. He held him tightly for a minute before returning to his task, cupping water in his hands and pouring it over Isak’s head, carefully rinsing the soap out of his hair.

Isak sighed, feeling warm and floaty, letting all of his weight rest against Even’s chest, reveling in the feeling. He felt so happy, so light. Being with Even felt like that giddy joy on the first morning of Yule as a child, the warmth in your chest from a strong glass of wine.

Finished with his hair, Even didn’t stop, instead sliding his hands down Isak’s neck to his shoulders, starting to massage the tight muscles there. He buried his face in Isak’s curls, breathing in deeply, and Isak could feel him smile. It felt wonderful, having Even’s capable hands treating him so softly, washing him and giving him pleasure in an entirely different way than they had been a few minutes earlier. He felt so solid behind Isak, his arms holding him in, his warmth comforting. He treated Isak like he was precious, like he was something important, important enough to wash every strand of his hair, to carefully clean his skin without irritating it.

It occurred to Isak that he hadn’t been cared for like this since he was a child – maybe ever.

Being held, feeling safe – these were foreign feelings to Isak, and the realization had his eyes welling with tears before he could stop them. He tried to hold it in, not wanting to worry Even, but the emotions rushed forth and overflowed. A sniffle gave him away when Even stopped what he was doing, leaning forward and craning around to see Isak’s face. When he saw that he was crying, his eyes widened in shock, immediately trying to assess what was wrong.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, shifting them around so he could see Isak more directly, sloshing water out of the tub, but paying it no mind. “Did- did I do something? Are you hurt?”

Isak was shaking his head vigorously, wiping the tears off his cheeks as they fell and trying to gather himself to find his voice.

“No, no, of course not. You didn’t do anything, Even, you’re perfect.” He turned in Even’s arms, curling into him and resting his head on his shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

“It’s nothing, really, I’m sorry. I’m fine, I promise.”

Even wound his arms around him, letting him sniffle into his shoulder and not trying to pry, which Isak appreciated.

“Shh, it’s okay, my angel,” he soothed, stroking Isak’s hair while he cried silently.

It didn’t take long before he settled, taking deep breaths and wiping his eyes.

“Let’s get you dried off, okay?” Even suggested gently, still holding him to his chest.

Isak nodded, realizing now that the water had gotten rather tepid, and it was starting to get uncomfortable. He let Even dry him off once they were out of the tub, laughing when he fluffed his hair up, no doubt turning it into a mess, and ending up chasing Even around the room with the towel, trying to get him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! A note about the next chapter - I'll be travelling abroad next week so it's possible I won't be able to post on Tuesday, but I'm going to try to. If I don't, I'll probably just post two the next week :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The wind was whipping their hair, stinging their cheeks, but they hardly noticed. Bundled in their coats, they walked down the gentle slope of the coastline, picking carefully over the rocks until their feet sank down into the soft sand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi from Amsterdam! I managed to edit on the plane and use my hotel's shoddy wifi, so I'm able to post after all! Yesterday I went to Rembrandt's house from around the same period this story is set and it was giving me all sorts of painter-Even-apprenticing-in-Amsterdam vibes so that was fun. Hope you guys enjoy the end of Isak and Even's dreamlike fortnight :)

During their entire time together thus far, holed up in Isak’s house, only coming out when they were forced, Even hadn’t expressed any desire to leave, or to take any time to himself, or to go back to his own home and his own life, which must have been simply frozen in time like Isak’s was.

Isak certainly didn’t mind this – in fact, it was really what he, perhaps selfishly, wanted. He wanted Even all to himself, setting everything else aside and spending this indulgent time doing nothing but being together. But still, it had him curious about Even’s life outside of the hours, and now days, they spent together. He had been curious from the beginning, back when his feelings for Even were developed no farther than an inkling, a spark. Back then, he had wondered about his friends, where he lived, what he did with his time when he wasn’t painting Isak’s portrait. He had wondered if there was anyone Even called his own, who his thoughts wandered back to.

Now, he knew a bit more about Even’s life, but there was quite a lot that was left a mystery. It wasn’t that Even had kept any of it hidden, per se, but he didn’t offer the information up, and Isak hadn’t pried. The fact that he hadn’t made any effort to go back to his life, to contact friends or others or spend time with people other than Isak, in a week and a half, suggested that there was nothing too important that Isak was unaware of. But still, the stakes were now higher for him. Feelings were involved, quite strong ones, that made him desperately want to know every little detail about Even, that made him feel like all those small things mattered.

And, he had to admit, there was a small part of him – relegated to the back of his mind, but increasingly vocal – that was worried that there was some important detail that he was missing, that he and Even somehow weren’t on the same page with all of this.

He had never actually _asked_ Even if there was anyone else. The thought sickened him, and he denied it every time it wormed its way into his mind, but…what if Even just hadn’t thought it important enough to mention? What if he was seeing their relationship from a completely different perspective?

Logically, Isak knew that the paranoid voice in his head was wrong. He had heard Even when he said that he had never felt anything like this before, he knew the emotions that had passed between them in the past few days were real.

But he was still left feeling almost a bit in the dark, a bit vulnerable with the way that everything that had happened between Even so far had stayed so completely between them. It felt like their lives were still fundamentally separate, far apart, and the life they were living together was something different entirely, stitched together from stolen minutes and hours and a few precious days, isolated from the rest.

He hadn’t asked Even where he lived, or what he did in his spare time, or why he hadn’t introduced him to any of his friends. No matter how many times he scolded himself for thinking this way, or how many times he proved to himself that his thoughts were illogical, once the seed was planted in his brain, the worries only grew, getting worse until in the space of only a couple of days, he spiraled into a state of self-conscious anxiety.

When it got to that point, Even noticed right away, frowning at him with concern and asking what was wrong. Isak tried to deny it, brushing Even off and changing the subject the first several times he asked, but he knew he wasn’t fooling him.

Eventually, Even wouldn’t accept his denials anymore. Stopping him in his tracks, he held Isak by the shoulders and leveled him with an earnest, worried gaze. Isak couldn’t manage to break his eyes away, and he couldn’t find it in himself to lie when Even was looking at him like that, asking him to trust him enough to tell him what was bothering him, to let him try to make it better.

Isak huffed a sigh, all the feelings rushing to the surface now. He already felt silly for what he was about to say, embarrassed by his insecurity, wishing he could just tell his brain to shut up already and have it work.

“I…I just,” he said, struggling for the right words. “Why haven’t you ever brought me to where you live? We’ve only ever been together here, and I don’t even know where you live, and – that-that time, when you were sick for a few weeks, I was so worried and I didn’t know where you were, I couldn’t even have found you if I needed to, and that really scared me.”

He bit his lip when he was done, after he’d allowed some of the thoughts that had been taking over his mind to spill out.

Even dropped his hands from Isak’s shoulders to take his hands, wrapping them up in his own and stroking his knuckles with his thumbs. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, eyes pained at the thought of Isak worrying about him. “I…I just haven’t thought it was important, to bring you to where I live – it’s just, there’s so much more space here, and I have a roommate, so it’s…it’s less convenient.”

Isak nodded at the explanation, but he still felt like Even wasn’t being completely straightforward with his reason.

“And…when will I meet your friends? Or this roommate you live with? I know it’s risky, but if you just introduce me as a client…Are…are you embarrassed by me, or something?”

Even’s eyes widened at that, and he shook his head quickly, hurrying to soothe Isak’s fears.

“No, no of course not. I’m –“ he sighed, looking down at his feet, seeming to gather himself. “It’s just that the way I live – well, it’s very different from the way you live. I don’t have a grand manor or wealthy friends…I live the humble life of an artist. And I guess I’ve been hesitant to show you that, worried that maybe I wouldn’t live up to your expectations.”

Now it was Isak’s turn to gape, having a hard time imagining how Even could possibly think Isak would somehow think less of him just by seeing how he wasn’t wealthy like his family was.

“Even, you know I would never think that.”

“I know. I do. It’s stupid, I know—”

“It’s not stupid,” Isak sighed, taking Even’s face in his heads and leaning their foreheads together, stroking Even’s jaw with his thumbs. “It’s how you feel. It isn’t stupid.”

He could feel Even swallow, and then nod.

“We both should have probably talked about this earlier,” Isak said with a dry laugh, which Even returned.

“Probably.”

There was a silent moment, where Isak was thinking, considering if he should say the last thing that was still nagging at the back of his mind, preventing him from feeling completely relieved.

“Even,” he began, gnawing at his bottom lip, “can I just ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“There…there isn’t anyone else, is there?” he asked, vulnerability ringing through his words.

“Isak,” Even just said, pulling back to look at him, cupping his face firmly. “No. You’re the only one, I promise you.”

“Okay,” Isak sighed, smiling up at him, eyes a little watery.

“I won’t keep the rest of my life separate from you anymore,” he promised. “I don’t want to.”

Isak turned his head, kissing Even’s palm.

“Now, remember, I didn’t get a chance to clean or anything, so it’s going to be messy,” Even said, for probably the tenth time, as he lead Isak down the crowded street through the middle of the city.

Isak rolled his eyes, just for his own benefit, since Even was in front of him. “I know, Even. It’s fine, really.”

Once they had entered the city from the south, they wove through near its center and veered off to the east, heading towards the port.

“How close to the water do you live?” Isak asked as he hurried to keep up with Even’s quick pace.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Even took them down a narrow side-street, and when they emerged on the other side, the wooden planks of the docks could be seen, the glittering of the sea on the sunny day, gulls flying and vying for scraps of food. The area was crowded, merchants and sailors all milling around, going about their work, and the buildings were all shoved close together up until the point where they stopped, giving way to the wharf. Isak was quite familiar with the area from accompanying his father on business, though it was too hectic for him to usually venture there on his own.

Turning, they came to a halt in front of one of those buildings, and Even nodded at it.

“This?” Isak asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Even laughed, “why are you surprised?”

“It’s just…this is a really cool location, is all, I guess.”

“There are a number of artists’ studios along this block, and I managed to snag one of them – with a roommate of course,” he explained while he unlocked the door. And it isn’t always the most comfortable, living where you work, but it is quite nice to be here. It can be good for inspiration, the sea and all the different people who pass through.”

The interior was a vast open space, just like he had imagined an artist’s studio would be, he supposed, with ample light from unusually large windows facing out towards the harbor. It was pretty bare, lacking in furniture, most of the space taken up instead by easels and canvases, some finished, some half-completed. Isak walked into the room, simply taking it all in, looking around with wonder. He noted that it was, indeed, quite messy, which made him smile fondly rather than put him off.

“Are all these paintings yours?” he asked, moving forward to look at them more closely, see if he could discern if they were in Even’s style.

“No, some of them are my roommate’s – Mikael.”

As if on cue, a tall, floppy-haired boy walked into the room, stopping in his tracks when he noticed Isak and Even.

“Even, you’re back!”

“Not back, just showing my friend – and client – the studio. Isak, this is my roommate Mikael. Mikael, this is Isak.”

Mikael turned his gaze to Isak and came forward with a warm smile and an outstretched hand, which Isak shook.

“Good to meet you,” he said. “And welcome to our humble abode.”

Isak liked Mikael instantly; he had an open face, with soft features, and the way Even seemed happy to see him made Isak trust that he was a good person.

It turned out that Mikael was also great company, as they somehow let him convince them to stay for some wine and conversation, and they ended up all slightly drunk, sat on the floor together after Isak got a thorough tour of the paintings in the studio.

Isak’s stomach was sore from laughing at the stories Mikael had been regaling him with, mostly ones whose main purpose was to embarrass Even, much to his chagrin and Isak’s glee.

By the time they stumbled out, Isak was promising to come back and drink with Mikael again, who had given him a standing open invitation.

“That was nice,” Isak sighed, warmth in his stomach and radiating outwards, as they headed back through the city.

Even hummed in agreement. “Do you feel better now?” he asked, and Isak nodded.

“Yes. Now I know where to look if you get sick again, and where to picture you when you’re not with me and I’m missing you.”

“Well, I suppose that’s worth all my embarrassing stories being revealed,” Even chuckled, and Isak felt a rush of affection, would have pecked him on the cheek or grabbed his hand if only they weren’t in the sight of a number of people.

It was only once they had reached the outskirts of the city, walking along the empty, tree-lined road to his house, that Isak moved closer, bumping against Even and tucking himself into his side. Even responded with an arm around him, and Isak smiled up at him, only the pale moonlight lighting his face, but it was enough.

The next day, they were forced to venture out again into the outside world in order to restock their food supply, having nearly run out of things to eat.

As they walked side-by-side down the dirt road towards the city, they were both keenly aware that their lawless, timeless week was nearing its end, both of their moods slightly dampened, fitting with the misty grey morning.

Isak shivered, the combination of the chilled morning air and the dampness of the mist piercing through his coat and getting down to his bones, and he hugged himself tightly.

“We should have a picnic,” Even piped up, sounding suddenly cheery.

Isak raised an eyebrow at him. “What? This is about the last day I would pick for a picnic.”

Even shrugged, smiling over at him and unwrapping his scarf when he noticed that Isak looked cold, wrapping it up around Isak’s neck snugly and tucking it into the collar of his coat.

“Well, we don’t have that many more days to choose from,” Even observed. Isak frowned, the reminder unwelcome. “Besides, a day is what you make of it, you know? I bet if we just decide to have a nice picnic this afternoon, things will work themselves out.”

Isak looked at him skeptically, but decided not to argue.

Even’s positivity and confidence worked, apparently, because by the time they reached the market downtown, the fog had lifted substantially, and the sun was beginning to peek out from behind the high clouds, pale and low in the sky, but there.

He was, of course, conscious of the fact that he was out in public with Even, that they couldn’t behave the same way towards each other that they did in private. But Even was relaxed, his usual charming self, chatting with the grocers as they wove through the stalls, testing fruits for ripeness, sniffing the dried herbs hanging from the tent ceilings, and it rubbed off on Isak, making him less paranoid. He realized that whatever the swirling anxious voices in his head said, people couldn’t see anything he didn’t show them, and all anyone else saw was two young men who clearly knew each other shopping for food.

When they got back, they laid their spoils all out in the kitchen and got to work preparing the perfect picnic. Isak climbed up precariously onto a teetering stool to reach what he insisted was the best basket they had, up buried in a high cupboard, while Even hovered below anxiously, hands poised by his legs and ready to catch him. He pulled out the nice cloth napkins, dyed dark red, and laid them in the basket. Together, they packed the food, playfully arguing about which things to bring and which to leave behind, taking sneaky bites as they went, loading the basket until it was almost overflowing and folding everything carefully in the napkins.

Isak was surprised when Even suggested riding to a picnic spot, considering how their last outing on horseback had gone, but happy that he seemed to be willing to try again.

They ended up both taking the same horse, letting Isak be the one to control the animal while Even sat behind him, holding the basket. It took some of the pressure off of Even, making him less nervous, as he cheekily explained once they had mounted.

“This is much nicer,” he said, settling in behind Isak with a pleased sigh, though it really couldn’t have been that comfortable for him, two full grown men squeezed into a single saddle. “Being in the capable hands of my handsome cavalier.”

Isak rolled his eyes, not letting Even see his smile.

“You’ll protect me, won’t you?” he asked airily, and when Isak glanced to the side to see him leaning over his shoulder, he was fluttering his eyelashes.

“You should be a court jester,” Isak grumbled, basking in the sound of Even’s easy laughter.

They couldn’t travel anywhere too out in the open, this being a bit of a compromising position to be in, so instead of crossing the road like they often had before, they went through the forests behind Isak’s home, past the garden and onto an overgrown trail that Isak had only used a few times before, but that he knew lead vaguely in the direction he knew had some pleasant clearings and meadows.

The weather had taken a turn for the better over the past few hours, and the sun was now shining, the dampness gone from the air, which was still chilly, it being nearly mid-October, but calm enough to still be pleasant with the right attire.

Isak kept the horse at a walk, not wanting a repeat of Even’s previous experience with trotting, and figuring that this was not the time to try and continue his teaching. The gentle pace rocked them back and forth, his back against Even’s chest where they were pressed snuggly together, Isak fitting perfectly between Even’s long legs which dangled behind his. It was calming, and he found himself leaning back into Even more heavily, simply enjoying this time, and their closeness, and the steady rhythm lulling him softly. Even wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning his chin on his shoulder.

Climbing up a grassy hill, they found their perfect spot. It was elevated enough that they could see over the canopy of the forest, out to where the church steeples and towers of the city rose above the treetops. After dismounting and leaving the horse free to graze there – Isak had to convince Even that he wouldn’t just run off – they spread their picnic blanket right at the top of the hill and unpacked their meal, spreading it all out in front of them.

They sat facing each other, legs tangled together in the space between them while they ate contentedly, talking with their mouths full and somehow still understanding each other’s garbled speech. Even told him more about his family, speaking of them warmly, and they reminisced about Oslo, finding out that they had shared some of the same favorite spots, shopped at some of the same grocers. They ate until they couldn’t anymore, until their bellies were stuffed full and they fell into a satisfied, food-laden fatigue.

Isak ended up lying on his back with his head in Even’s lap, watching the clouds roll by as he blinked slowly and listened to the low rumble of Even’s voice. He felt heavy, like his body could just sink into the earth below him at any moment. It was, perhaps, possible that he might have eaten a little too much food.

“Even,” he sighed, eyes closed, suddenly irritated by the glow of the sun even through his closed eyelids. “Tell me a story.” He threw an arm over his eyes and waited.

“What kind of story?” Even asked with a chuckle.

Isak shrugged. “I don’t know. It just has to be a good one.”

“Hmmm,” Even mused, clicking his tongue as he thought. “Alright.” His hand found its way to Isak’s hair, fingers stroking through the curls. “There once was a boy, we’ll call him…Eivind.”

“Oh my god,” Isak groaned, “if you’re going to tell a story about yourself you’ve got to at least come up with a less obvious fake name –“

“Hush! I’m telling you a story. Now, as I was saying, there once was a boy called Eivind. He was a very lonely painter; happy enough, at least most of the time, but there was something missing.”

Even paused, long enough that Isak was about to complain, but then he started again.

“You see, Eivind had a lot of light inside, but a lot of darkness too, and it could be overwhelming when it was just himself. He tried to let it out through his painting, and that worked a little, but what he really needed was someone to share it with – both the good and the bad. Then, one day, a beautiful boy came along, who shone so brightly wherever he went that Eivind couldn’t help but be drawn to him. He was so lovely and sweet and intelligent, and all Eivind wanted right away was to spend all his time basking in his light. As they got to know each other, he found that little by little, he started to be able to let out a little of what he was holding inside, and it felt like a boulder being lifted off his chest. Now that he had someone he could share everything with, the light and the dark got a little less overwhelming, a little more manageable, and he got a little lighter, free now to share more of his light with the world, with the beautiful boy at his side.”

By the time he was done, Isak was smiling so hard his cheeks were starting to hurt, and there was a tightness in his chest that, coupled with an overwhelming warmth and affection, made it hard to breathe.

“You’re ridiculous,” he managed to say, his voice coming out a little choked as he turned so he could bury his face in Even’s thigh. “That was a beautiful story,” he murmured. “I loved it, thank you.” He stayed there for a minute, clinging on to Even’s trousers with one hand, not ready to move yet.

When he sat back up, Even’s gaze was soft, already resting on him. Looking closer, he could see that his eyes were damp, mirroring his own. He leaned closer, raising a hand to Even’s face, tucking a strand of his soft hair behind his ear.

“I’m so glad I met you,” he said, and he tried to put all the things he felt behind the words.

He kissed Even slowly, and Even returned the kiss, tilting his head to kiss him deeper, sighing through his nose.

An insistent neigh broke through their moment, and they pulled apart, both laughing.

“I guess that means it’s time to go home,” Isak said. He stood, then held out a hand to help Even up.

They returned the same way they had come, Even tucked behind Isak, humming softly in his ear, the picnic basket far lighter now than it had been.

The wind was whipping their hair, stinging their cheeks, but they hardly noticed. Bundled in their coats, they walked down the gentle slope of the coastline, picking carefully over the rocks until their feet sank down into the soft sand.

Side by side, they made their way along the shore, the only two people out on the narrow strip of beach in the middle of Autumn. This gave them room to breathe, space to be as they wanted to be in these last few hours with each other. Their hands gripped each other firmly, Isak’s half-covered by the too-long sleeve of his shirt, swinging between them as they walked.

Isak closed his eyes for a moment, trusting Even’s hand to lead him forward safely, and breathed in deeply through his nose, smelling the sharp, salty air of the sea.

Both of them were quiet. There was quite a lot to say, but neither of them was saying any of it.

After they had meandered for a while, Even stopped abruptly and turned them around, pivoting so that they faced the sea. The sky was a light gray, the clouds high and unthreatening. It wouldn’t rain today. The sea was choppy from the wind, dark and dotted with whitecaps, but the waves were still small as they crept up the shore.

Sitting down in a spot where grass and sand collided, Even pulled Isak down to sit between his legs, letting him relax against his chest as they both looked out onto the water. For once, Isak didn’t worry that someone would appear and find them like this. His mind was occupied with other things.

“When exactly do your parents arrive again?” Even’s voice rumbled in his ear, over the rushing of the wind and the rolling of the tide.

Isak sighed before he answered, not wanting to think about it, though it wasn’t as if either of them would be thinking about anything else.

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied. “The ship is supposed to arrive at seven o’clock.”

Even hummed, and he felt him nodding, his hair tickling his cheek.

They sat in silence for another few minutes, just being in each other’s presence, absorbing the scenery. Isak had often been told that the sea had calming properties, but he wasn’t sure he believed it. If any sense of calm was falling over him, he thought it was more likely because of Even.

“I hate that this is ending,” he said finally, stating what they were both thinking. “I wish it didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Even said. “These two weeks have been…They’ve been amazing.”

“Like out of a dream,” Isak agreed.

“But it couldn’t last forever, of course,” Even reasoned, and even though he knew he was right, Isak reflexively wanted to argue. “Life wouldn’t work if it were so carefree and lazy. And you wouldn’t get your degree if you kept missing classes like this,” he smirked, poking Isak in the arm.

“Yes, I suppose,” Isak sighed, shuffling down so that he could lean his head back against Even’s collarbone. “Still…I don’t want to stop seeing you every day. Every hour of every day.”

Even wrapped his arms tighter around him, and they watched as the tide crept out, retreating back into the sea.

Isak felt a pained clenching in his chest.

They both knew that this isolated time with each other wasn’t the only thing that was going to change. The portrait had been stretched out as long as it could, and now it had to be officially declared finished. Isak had gotten a final look at the finished product the other day when they sat down to put on the finishing touches. It was beautiful, much more beautiful than he thought of himself as being. But then, Even had never seen him the way he saw himself. He was sure his parents would be pleased; Even had done a fine job, and the painting would hang in some prominent spot in their home for as long as the family lived there. It would remind him of Even whenever he passed by it, and the countless happy moments they spent together during its production.

Now, he wouldn’t have certain, scheduled time to spend with Even, and the prospect to him seemed grim.

“We’ll still see each other, you know,” Even spoke, as if he could sense the direction of Isak’s thoughts. “ _This_ isn’t going to end,” he added, tightening his arms around Isak.

Isak turned in his hold so that he could look at him. “We can meet in secret as often as is safe,” he said, reassuring himself. “And sometimes in public too, right?”

Even nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Of course.” He shrugged. “Maybe we’ll even get to see each other more than before,” he said optimistically.

Isak nodded, not entirely convinced. He turned back around, settling in against Even’s chest, and took one of his hands, tracing it with his fingertips while he thought.

It still felt like the end of something. Not of _them_ , Even was right about that. There was no letting each other go, not at this point. But there was no denying that things were going to change. He hoped it wouldn’t be too much for the worse.

They sat there on the beach until the sun started to dip towards the horizon, hazy from the clouds.

Neither of them wanted to move, almost frozen to the spot, despite the air that was getting colder, making their noses and ears red. Isak felt the steady rise and fall of Even’s chest behind him, and found their breaths syncing naturally.

They watched the sunset in silence, almost meditative. A creamy orange grew from the horizon, bleeding across the clouds, making them look like they were glowing from within. After the sun had disappeared into the waves, and the sky darkened to a dim blueish grey, they still stayed put, neither one willing to make the first move to get up.

It was only once Isak started shivering, the temperature dropping minute by minute, that Even sighed and shifted behind him.

“We should probably head back,” he suggested halfheartedly.

Dragging their feet, they made the trek back to Isak’s house, only reaching it once it was completely dark. They went straight to the bedroom, Isak starting a fire in the fireplace before they pulled off their clothes, not bothering to put on nightclothes and just falling into bed, slipping between the sheets.

They lay facing each other for a moment. Even’s hand felt heavy where it rested on Isak’s waist, absently stroking the skin with his thumb. Isak’s eyes flitted over Even’s face, taking it in. The fire was casting a warm glow on him, constantly moving and flickering, and he thought it made him look almost more beautiful than ever. Reaching a hand out, he traced the bridge of Even’s nose with his fingertip, and Even smiled at him.

“I’ll miss this,” Isak whispered.

Even pulled him in, against his chest, and began kissing him.

“I promise you,” he said between kisses, voice a little rough, “that I will never let us be apart for long enough for you to miss me.”

“You can’t know that,” Isak protested weakly, his voice thin and strained as Even kissed his neck.

“I can,” Even insisted, muffled by his skin.

Isak wound his arms around Even’s neck, clinging on more tightly as he chased Even’s lips with his own, returning the kisses. Their tempo steadily increased, becoming more desperate and demanding, and their bodies moved closer without either of them realizing it, until they were pressed together, legs tangled, warming each other faster than the fire could.

Even opened him up quickly, but still thoroughly, his lips never leaving Isak’s skin once while he did. When he decided he was ready, Isak pushed his hand away, pushing Even back on the mattress and swinging a leg over him so he was straddling his hips. He fell forward, kissing Even’s chest, licking at patches of the sweat that had now appeared there, while Even shuffled up to lean against the headboard, taking Isak with him.

Leaning back, Isak placed his hands flat on Even’s chest, spreading them wide, feeling the muscles move under his palms.

“Like this?” he whispered, panting, and Even nodded.

Isak sat up on his knees and reached behind him – they hadn’t tried this position yet, but he could figure it out. He sank down on Even, keeping eye contact with him while he did, and he treasured the sight of all the little shifts and changes in Even’s face, the way he could see every feeling and emotion going through him as they were joined.

Once he was seated on Even’s hips, he let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and grounding himself in the feeling. When he opened them, Even’s eyes were glued on him, wide and dark, and he could see the love in them, knew what it was, even if they hadn’t said it out loud yet.

They started out slowly, the pace steadily climbing, focused completely on giving each other pleasure. Isak tried to put all he felt into every movement, every twist of his hips and grasping of his hands. Neither of them could take their eyes off of each other, staring as if lost in a trance.

The night was quiet, and they said nothing, the air filled only with the crackling of the fire, the creaking of the bedframe, their soft pants mingling and the sounds of skin on skin.

Even’s hands gripped tight on Isak’s hips, fingers digging into the flesh, and Isak hoped they would leave bruises, so he could keep them as proof that Even had really been here, when he no longer was. And maybe, if he was lucky, the bruises wouldn’t fade by the time Even was back to give him new ones.

After they finished together, holding each other tightly, they fell back in the bed, curling into each other. Even tugged the sheets up over them, tucking them around Isak and under his chin. Isak knew Even would leave in the morning, that they wouldn’t be able to slowly wake in each other’s arms like they had every morning for the past two weeks.

He didn’t want to sleep; the time seemed too precious. They should talk, or at least spend their last hours just looking at each other. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake, not with Even’s arms around him and the sound of his soft breathing lulling him to sleep. He fought with his eyelids, drooping and growing heavy, and clutched onto consciousness for as long as he could, but then he heard Even whisper, “Shh, just sleep,” and he let go, drifting off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Isak began to realize, over the first few weeks after his parents returned, what being in love with Even actually meant. It meant, simply, that he wanted to be with him all of the time. He wanted to share his life with him – to fall asleep and wake up beside him, to cheer him up when he’d had a bad day, to eat together and laugh together and stay up talking until the early hours of the morning, getting to know each other’s minds more deeply every day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to warn you, the angst is now beginning, but don't worry - I'm currently working on the last chapter and I can tell you that it is pure fluff and happiness. Hope everyone's staying healthy and finding ways to keep their spirits up right now <3

The gulls called loudly all around the harbor, having just recently woken with the first light of dawn. Isak frowned against the noise, finding it harsh and grating on his ears when he was so close to sleep himself, yawning and struggling to keep his eyes open as he waited on the dock, watching the ships grow bigger as they came in.

He clutched his coat tighter around him, shivering as a gust of wind came off the water. He always found himself much more susceptible to the cold when he was tired.

The time was nearing when the ship his parents were on was supposed to be arriving from across the strait in Malmö. Peering out across the harbor, he thought he could identify the ship making its way steadily from the right direction, slowing as it approached the dock.

When his parents disembarked, he greeted them both with a hug before they went to meet the carriage that they had arranged to take them back to the house. Their chattering began almost instantly, recalling the trip and all of the notable – or not so notable, in Isak’s opinion – things that had happened on it, but Isak let it fade into the background, just muffled noise.

His mind was elsewhere, particularly on the unassuming building just behind them as they left the port, which he knew held Even within its walls. They had walked to the port together and parted ways with a cordial nod, Even slipping away into his studio and Isak waiting on the dock, keenly aware that if Even were to look out one of those large windows, he could probably still see him.

That evening, Isak suffered through several more hours of listening to his parents talk, having to pretend that he was excited to see them, glad of their return. The servants returned, and he sat through dinner, avoiding his father’s questions about what he got up to while they were gone and brushing off his mother’s comments that he seemed in a dour mood.

When it was finally time for him to slip away into the privacy of his own bedroom, he flopped into his bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. His room felt painfully empty, and he braced himself for a night of tossing and turning, struggling to fall asleep.

Before he could wallow too much in his own sadness, however, he was startled severely by a sharp knock on his window.

Once he’d recovered from nearly jumping out of his skin, he got out of bed, carefully creeping towards the window with a confused frown. When he got close enough, he was shocked to see that it was Even, standing outside of his window, peering in.

He threw open the window, mouth gaping as Even grinned up at him.

“What are you doing here?!” he whispered.

“I promised you I would come sleep with you every night, remember?” Even shrugged. “So here I am.”

Isak blinked at him, stunned by the rush of emotions that filled him at the fact that Even had remembered, that he actually came, that he walked all this way in the middle of the night so that Isak wouldn’t have to struggle to sleep alone.

“I love you,” he blurted out on a gasp, unable to keep it in anymore.

For a moment, Even looked as shocked as Isak felt, frozen in a look of wide-eyed bewilderment. Before Isak had a chance to worry, or to backtrack, Even had broken into a huge grin that split his face. He reached for him, pulling him down into a kiss that was mostly teeth because of how much both of them were smiling. Isak pressed against the window, trying to get closer, but there was a terribly inconvenient wall in the way, they both realized, breaking apart and laughing breathlessly.

They separated for long enough for Even to hoist himself up into the room before they were kissing again, messily but full of feeling. Even walked him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed, both of them tumbling down into it together. He pulled back, hovering over him.

“I love you too,” he whispered, running his fingers through Isak’s hair. “Of course I love you.”

“Come here,” Isak breathed, and Even obliged.

There wasn’t room to spare a thought to worry about Isak’s parents being home; too much was taken up by each other. They were sleeping, and on the other side of the house, and they could have just this one moment to themselves, it didn’t seem like too much to ask.

Neither of them had to say anything; they were both on the same page, undressing each other quickly but with so much care, kisses trailing behind hands, praises whispered into skin.

After allowing those words to pass between them, every touch seemed to echo with it; even though it wasn’t the first time they had felt it, now they knew they could express it, and they did so with abandon.

They said it again and again, on sighs and gasps, couched between moans, into each other’s mouths.

Even gathered Isak into his arms, both of them clinging to each other, trying to get as close as they possibly could. At a certain point, Isak felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, good tears, a lump rising in his throat from sheer feeling, appreciation for this boy who he loved, and who loved him back.

They fell asleep together, just as promised, Even with his back to Isak’s chest, Isak burying his face between his shoulder blades.

After that, life, by necessity, returned largely back to normal.

Isak started going to his classes again, studying extra from his books to catch up, spending hours in the library at night, reading by candlelight. His parents were decidedly pleased with the portrait, hanging it in the library immediately. Even went back to his other projects, quickly receiving a commission from one of Marianne’s friends on her recommendation, as well as spending time in his studio, working on his own art. He did come and sneak in through Isak’s window to sleep with him, as promised, almost every night.

Isak also started spending what was probably a conspicuously large amount of time when he was neither at home nor in class, but his parents didn’t pay enough attention to notice, he realized, half grateful and half bitter. As often as possible, Isak and Even would spend their free time together, meeting up at Even’s studio, or at Isak’s house, either in secret or when his parents weren’t home. They even managed to go on outings, meeting at some designated spot in the woods and taking walks together, or even going to the market or the harbor, watching the people going by, as long as they were careful with how they interacted when they knew they could be seen.

Still, there was a profound sense of loss after their two weeks together; it always felt like something was missing, like something wasn’t right.

It was an abrupt shift to go from spending every waking moment together – and sleeping moments too – to only seeing each other whenever they could steal a spare hour or two, and Isak felt the change keenly.

Isak began to realize, over the first few weeks after his parents returned, what being in love with Even actually meant. It meant, simply, that he wanted to be with him all of the time. He wanted to share his life with him – to fall asleep and wake up beside him, to cheer him up when he’d had a bad day, to eat together and laugh together and stay up talking until the early hours of the morning, getting to know each other’s minds more deeply every day.

And while he could have each of those to some extent, he couldn’t have them the way he wanted to, the way his heart now fundamentally longed to.

Every time he had to part ways with Even, even when they had plans to see each other soon, sent a sharp pang through his heart, and wore away a little more at the happy glow that had been surrounding them.

This gradual dawning of the reality of the situation, and the contrast between their blissful two weeks together and this sudden drop-off put Isak into a bit of a state of melancholy. It wasn’t all the time; there were still good days and happy moments, particularly those where he got to see Even. But he found himself getting sad about what he was lacking. The fact that the two of them could only see each other when they were able to coordinate a planned time to, that when they did see each other, they were forced to sneak around, frustrated Isak more and more.

He knew he was in love, but he didn’t know where to go from there, didn’t know where he _could_ go from there. What they had now didn’t feel sustainable – he couldn’t imagine them going on like this in 5 years, or 10, or 20. But he desperately wanted to see a future for the two of them.

Isak hadn’t brought up any of this with Even. He never wanted to spoil their precious time together with his worries and doubts, so he kept quiet about it. Whenever they were together, he was happy enough that he temporarily forgot about it all, so he didn’t think Even could even tell that something was bothering him, though he wasn’t sure. Even seemed to have a talent for reading him.

Unfortunately, Isak’s mother had apparently been serious when she had talked about maneuvering Even into high society. Once she got home, she started piping up with suggestions every once in a while – that she should take him with her to one of her monthly meetings with the wealthy women of the neighborhood, or that there was a dinner coming up with a family known to be patrons of the arts that he should really accompany her to. All of it was so clearly just Marianne wanting to show off that she had a promising young artist as a friend to her family, and, after checking with Even to make sure he wasn’t actually interested in the offers, Isak always managed to eventually shut down her suggestions.

Until one of them.

Somehow Isak’s mother had gotten the idea into her head that he and Even should both attend the annual party held by one of the most well-regarded families in the city. It was always utterly miserable, nothing more than a bunch of people Isak didn’t like very much at all, complete with being made to wear uncomfortable, fancy clothes and forced to dance. As a boy, his mother had always made him attend, but in recent years he had managed to avoid it, using the excuse of focusing on his studies instead. But this time, Marianne was unmovable.

Isak dragged his feet on his way home from class on the night of the dance, having dreaded it all week. Even the fact that he would get to spend the night with Even didn’t make him feel any better. They would be out in public, after all, so they wouldn’t be able to be themselves with each other, and he would probably spend the night worrying that his feelings for Even were written on his face. Besides that, this kind of socializing merely for the sake of being seen, kissing up to whoever had money or power and pretending to be interested in what they were saying, always left a bad taste in Isak’s mouth.

So, when he pushed open his heavy front door and was immediately accosted by his mother, he thought the evening couldn’t get much worse.

“Isak! Good, you’re home.” She spoke quickly, herding him inside and pushing him towards his bedroom. “I have your clothes for tonight laid out on your bed. Now hurry, go get ready before Even arrives.”

Isak shut his door behind him with a sigh, leaning back against it and closing his eyes, cherishing the brief respite of calm and silence.

The outfit his mother had picked out for him was, to his slight surprise, the tunic that he had bought when he had gone to the tailor with Even and Jonas, the one he actually quite liked. When he put it on and looked at himself in the mirror, he recognized how the forest green velvet highlighted his eyes, made his hair look like gold. He was standing there, considering himself, when he heard a commotion down the hall, which almost certainly meant that Even had arrived.

Rushing out of his room, Isak turned the corner to see Even, and stopped in his tracks.

He had never seen him in anything other than casual clothing or his artist’s smock, which he loved, but standing before him in a fine coat, well-fitted and trimmed with bright red thread, Even looked like something out of his dreams.

Thankfully, Marianne had momentarily left the foyer, because Isak knew he was gaping like a fish, and he wasn’t sure he could have hidden his reaction if he had to.

Even appeared to be just as affected, if not more, by Isak, looking him up and down slowly, eyes wide, as he walked down the hallway towards him.

He stopped when they were a couple feet apart; an appropriate distance, but all his nerves were screaming to get closer.

“Hey,” Even said, smiling at him widely.

“Hi,” Isak returned in a squeak.

They stood, staring at each other with bright eyes.

Suddenly, the prospect of the evening to come didn’t seem quite as bad. If Even would be there next to him, looking at him like that and being so beautiful, he could face whatever boredom and tedium was in store.

Their gaze only broke with the sharp clacking of his mother’s heels on the floor, coming back into the foyer.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed,” she said as she swept in, coming up to Isak and messing with his coat immediately, brushing off the collar and straightening it, leaning back and pursing her lips as she examined him with a critical eye.

“Yes, that will do,” she concluded, clapping her hands together. “Alright, the girls should be here at any moment, that’s probably their carriage coming down the road right now—”

“The _what_?” Isak asked, heart suddenly dropping into his stomach.

His mother glanced at him, frowning like he was being ridiculous.

“The girls you’re taking to the dance, of course,” she sighed, scurrying to the window and peering outside, holding a candle up to it. “Yes, that’s them.”

Isak wanted to protest, wanted to stomp his foot and throw a tantrum like a child, somehow reverse the course the evening was now taking. Being accompanied by two girls to this dance was about the last thing in the world he wanted, and he turned to Even in panic, as if he could do anything about it.

“ _It’s okay_ ,” he saw Even mouth, making his eyes as soft and reassuring as he could, communicating that he wasn’t a fan of this arrangement either, but that it wasn’t a big deal.

Marianne turned, giving them both a final glance to ensure they met her standards before reaching for the door handle, stopping and turning to level Isak with a steely glance.

“Be pleasant, Isak,” she warned, as if she could sense his rapidly deteriorating mood, before opening the door and stepping out, waving at the carriage.

Sitting in the carriage, Isak stewed in his own annoyance as he was jolted around by the rattling of the carriage over the dirt road. He made little effort to hide his bad mood, slumping down on the bench as soon as he sat in it, crossing his arms and staring out the window. Even was trying his best to mitigate the situation, he could tell, but he could only do so much. When they had entered the carriage after being introduced to the girls, Even had slyly maneuvered them so that Isak ended up sitting next to him on the same bench, with the girls across from them, which Isak appreciated. He kept glancing at him, trying to catch his eye and silently reassure him whenever the girls were looking away.

He knew he was being incredibly rude, and he felt a little bad about it – Emma seemed nice enough when she had greeted him, if a little overly enthusiastic, and he had barely given her a smile, saying as few words to her as possible. Even, on the other hand, was Even, and therefore warm and welcoming, introducing himself to Sonja with one of his winning smiles and taking her arm, helping her up into the carriage.

It wasn’t surprising that Isak was annoyed that he’d been made to escort some girl to this event out of nowhere, but what he was feeling was more than grumpiness, and even he recognized that it seemed like an overreaction to the situation.

As the carriage ride continued, and the initial awkward silence was replaced with Even engaging both of the girls in conversation good-naturedly while Isak continued to pout, he found himself feeling sick to his stomach, and he couldn’t figure out why he was reacting so strongly.

Sure, it was a disappointment that he and Even were going to have other people they had to talk to and entertain, instead of only paying attention to each other the entire night, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach was stronger than that. When he made eye contact with Even next, something in his face must have betrayed how bothered he was by this, because Even’s expression turned to one of concern, and he even looked like he was about to say something before the carriage came jolting to a halt.

“We have arrived!” the coachman announced, calling back to them.

As they climbed out of the carriage, Even held Isak back as the girls heading towards the house, speaking to him in a low whisper.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Isak shrugged. “I just…don’t want to do this,” he sighed.

“I know,” Even said sympathetically, “neither do I. But it’s just for a few hours, and afterwards, we can stay up late and have our own party, just you and me, alright?”

Isak nodded, feeling slightly better, but then Sonja turned around, calling for them to hurry up.

Isak didn’t really believe in Hell. There had been a time when all of that had meant something to him, but even then, his studies of science had him doubting more and more. Now, he had pretty much abandoned thoughts of religion, especially since Even had come along. He needed nothing more to believe in than what was in front of him.

That being said, Isak found himself seriously questioning at several points during the night if perhaps he had somehow died and been sent to that eternal inferno without noticing.

The party was every bit as intolerable as he expected it to be, and he didn’t even have Even to distract him, occupied as he was playing the gracious chaperone to Sonja. It sent icy spikes through his chest to watch him talking and laughing with her, which he realized were jealousy. He knew he shouldn’t feel jealous, that Even was just being Even, gregarious as he always was, and that Even loved him and would rather be spending this evening with him alone. Still, it hurt to watch.

Emma put her hand on his arm, trying to get his attention and snapping him out of his sulking, making him realize he had probably been openly scowling over at Even and Sonja for a few minutes.

Forcing a smile, Isak made an effort to at least seem like he was paying attention to what Emma was saying, taking frequent sips of his wine and hoping it would dull his experience of this dreadful affair. She was still trying, bless her, blinking up at him with big eyes and asking him about his studies. He knew he was being an ass, acting so cold and all but ignoring her throughout the night, but he couldn’t help but resent her for the fact that he had to be here with her.

It dawned on him, then, the painful fact that this kind of situation was exactly what he had to expect because of who he was in love with. What really bothered him, what he really wanted, was to attend an event like this with Even – not just in the way that they had originally intended, but as a couple, hanging off of each other’s arms and standing close and laughing like all the young men and women here were. And that was something he would categorically never be able to have. This – this standing in the corner with someone he wasn’t interested in, watching the man he loved charming someone else, was all he had in store for him.

His heart sank even further, and he felt his chest grow tight.

When Even and Sonja came over to them, he mostly avoided Even’s gaze, becoming very interested in his fingernails and staring deep into the pale liquid in his glass. He knew that Even was just being polite, just being a good and kind person who was far more mature than he was – it wasn’t that he was mad at him. At least, he was trying not to be. But it was still hard to watch.

All of a sudden, the music lifted, the string quartet that had been providing comfortable background music for mingling shifting into a popular dancing tune.

Emma squealed when she heard it, clapping her hands. “Oh, I love dancing!” she exclaimed, turning to Isak hopefully, who only grimaced.

Before he could make some excuse about having twisted his ankle earlier or something, out of the corner of his eye he saw Even and Sonja sweeping off onto the dancefloor together. He turned his head, his eyes following them to see them spin gracefully into the dance, almost seeming to float across the floor.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, of _his_ Even dancing with someone else, when he himself would never get to do that. It struck him as acutely unfair, a cruel joke of the universe.

They looked beautiful together.

Everything was wrong with this picture. He wasn’t supposed to have a girl next to him, trying to get his attention, and neither was Even. It should have been him out there, letting Even spin him in endless circles, but it couldn’t be.

That wasn’t in the cards for them.

His blood started rushing loudly in his ears, and his vision blurred, confusing him for a moment before he realized his eyes were quickly filling with tears.

Suddenly, he felt like throwing up.

“I’m sorry, I – I don’t feel well,” he blurted out to Emma, keeping his head bowed so she didn’t see the tears that were starting to slip down his cheeks, then turned on his heel and rushed out of the room, breaking into a run as soon as he was in the hallway of the huge, decadent house.

He didn’t stop until he was in the garden in the back of the house, tucking himself into a corner against a stone wall where he wouldn’t be seen and sinking to the ground, gasping for breath as his tears now turned to sobs.

Shivering without his coat in the cold November night, Isak clutched himself tightly, his mind spinning with all the things he was feeling. Honestly, he felt devastated, like he had been living in some fantasy world in which he and Even could actually be together happily, and now the illusion had been shattered. It had been slipping for the past few weeks, he realized, as the reality of having to love Even in secret became more clear to him, but now it was like it slapped him in the face.

It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t going to work, and he had been foolish to think that it might.

Head spinning, all of the things that he dreamed of, that he couldn’t have, flashed through his mind. There would be no dancing, no holding hands in the street, kisses on the cheek in the market, no introducing each other to friends and family as partners. Always having to watch Even being chased by others, never being able to claim his as his own. Worrying that someday, one of them would succeed.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his head into the cradle of his arms and tried to muffle his sobs, not wanting to attract attention.

It wasn’t long before he could hear hurried footsteps running towards him, and he knew right away that it was Even.

“Isak?!” he heard, Even’s voice clearly panicked.

He didn’t take his face out of his arms as Even crouched down in front of him, no doubt with his lovely eyes full of worry.

When Isak didn’t respond, unable to do anything but calm his sobs enough that he was crying more softly, shoulders shaking, Even’s hands landed gently on his arms. He stiffened, worried that Even would try to pry him out of his safe little ball that he wasn’t ready to leave, but Even must have understood, because his hands slipped instead around Isak’s back, his arms encircling him and pulling him slightly against his chest, just soothing for now.

“Isak, please tell me what’s wrong,” he said, tucking Isak’s head under his chin. His voice was wobbly, like Isak had never heard it before.

After a minute, Isak calmed enough to straighten, lifting his head from his arms and sniffling softly. Even was staring down at him, looking so confused and concerned that Isak wanted to just stop crying and tell him nothing was wrong, but he couldn’t.

“I love you,” he began when his tears had abated enough to speak, “but that doesn’t…it doesn’t do any good if it always has to be a secret.”

Even frowned, not seeming to understand yet.

“Because I want to be with you the way that people are supposed to be when they love each other,” he continued, wiping the tears off his cheeks with his shirt sleeve even as more started falling to replace them, clinging onto his eyelashes and blurring his vision.

“I want to be able to live with you, to spend all of our time together, to attend events like this together instead of…instead of being forced to put up a façade with other people.”

“Isak,” Even sighed, reaching out to stroke his hand through Isak’s hair. He leaned into the touch without meaning to, craving the touch when he was so upset. “I know. I want all of those things too. But it doesn’t have to all be impossible – we can still be happy together; tonight is just a bad night,” he insisted, trying his best to comfort him.

“But we can’t!” Isak exclaimed, probably too loudly. “It will always be like this, Even!”

He was pulling back, away from Even’s hand, which was only trying to help. He could see the hurt pass over his eyes, but he couldn’t stop now.

“We can’t have a normal life,” he spat, his heart racing, getting more and more worked up. “The world will never allow it, we’ll never be able to have a real relationship, it will always be sneaking around in secret, stealing chances to meet here and there, and that isn’t enough.”

Even’s expression was distraught, and he was reaching out towards Isak, maybe without even consciously meaning to, holding back because Isak had moved away but straining towards him anyway.

“Isak, I know, it’s hard, and I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to make it harder. But please, let me help you, just breathe so we can talk about this.”

Shaking his head, Isak pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the painful scraping of his back against the stone wall. His head was spinning, and he could not be consoled.

“It’s just not _fair_ ,” he lamented, his voice breaking. “We’ve found this amazing, rare thing, but it won’t – it won’t work. This can’t work, Even.”

“You don’t know that!” Even argued. “Love is _powerful_ , it’s stronger than all of that—”

“No – we’ll try for a while, and it will be a strain on both of us, and all that hiding will start to get old, and we’ll start to resent each other, and then someday I’ll have to watch you get swept up by some girl and fall in love, or close enough, and I’ll lose you to someone you can actually have a life with.”

There were tears in Even’s eyes now, and it broke Isak’s heart. But he was just so angry, so hurt by this whole situation, betrayed by fate, or the universe, or whatever it was dealing out the cards, that he needed somewhere for that pain to go. And Even was the only one there.

“No, of course not, I would never –”

“Really? You would never? Because you sure didn’t seem to mind flirting with Sonja all night,” he lashed out, regretting the words immediately, but his turmoil wouldn’t let him take them back.

Even froze, taken aback, just gaping at him.

Isak needed to get out. He couldn’t stick around to see the hurt on Even’s face, couldn’t talk about this anymore. So he ran.

Pushing past Even, he took off through the garden, not looking back.

Past the house, onto the street, his feet carried him until his lungs were burning and his muscles screaming. He stopped in the middle of the empty street, hunching over, leaning on his knees and gasping for breath. Tears slipped down to the tip of his nose and let go, dripping onto the dirt. Once his body had recovered enough, he carried on.

There were clouds in the sky, but the clear dark blanket pricked with light was still visible behind their tendrils, the moon lighting them from behind so that they appeared to be lined with silver.

Isak was freezing, but he didn’t care, welcomed the distracting feeling more than anything. His knees were bent in front of him, his arms wrapped around them loosely as he sat on the roof, staring up at the sky. He wondered if there was another planet around another star, out there somewhere, where an Isak and an Even lived who never had to go through this. Who got to live happily ever after.

Some time had passed since he made his flight, maybe an hour, maybe more. He was thinking, letting the cold, fresh air help clear his head, taking deep breaths like Even would have told him to if he were there. He would be there, probably soon. Isak knew he would follow him, that he knew him well enough to find him up here. He also knew that Even would accompany the girls home, make sure they got back safe, so it wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t come yet.

It gave Isak time, time to cool down, to feel guilty, to let his anger and hopelessness settle into more of a steady, aching sorrow.

A pronounced crashing and thumping announced Even’s arrival – he never had been the best at getting onto the roof. Isak hoped it didn’t wake his parents; but then again, they would hardly come up onto the roof to check anyways.

He didn’t turn to acknowledge him as Even picked his way across the roofing tiles and settled down next to him, just staring out into the distant stars and taking a deep breath. Even didn’t say anything either, letting the silence sit between them.

Nothing was better. Isak’s heart still felt like a stone. But now he was ready to talk about it.

“I’m sorry,” he said into the still air. “For a lot of things, but mostly for yelling at you, and saying that you were flirting with Sonja. I was so angry, but not at you – not really.”

After a moment, Even spoke too. “I’m sorry too. I should have thought more about how you must have been feeling. I know I tend to be overly friendly with people, but I should have realized that it would make you feel threatened. I didn’t want you to feel like that.”

“I know you didn’t. It was hard to watch, though.”

They stayed silent for a minute, letting their words and apologies settle between them, making sure they sank in.

When he was ready, Isak scooted himself closer, until he and Even were hip to hip, and bent to lean his head on Even’s shoulder.

To his surprise, Even was the one who spoke first. “I know that the way that we are isn’t – isn’t accepted by the broader society,” he began carefully. “But that doesn’t mean we’re alone in this – I mean you saw that yourself, with all the research you did. And in many of the circles I run in, among artists, it isn’t all that uncommon. There are communities in this day and age where men can live together, spend their lives that way, and no one will turn their heads. It isn’t exactly out in the open, but…it isn’t a secret either.”

Isak processed the words, thinking them over and chewing on his lip. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Even, but he just wasn’t sure.

“You’re not convinced,” Even inferred after a moment. Isak shrugged.

“I just…I hate that it has to be like this, you know? I can’t help thinking about all the things we’ll miss out on.” He felt a few stray tears start to crawl down his cheeks again, not making it very far before Even wiped them away with his thumb. He was surprised he still had any left.

“Like, how we won’t be able to dance together, how…how we’ll never be able to get married, or have a family.” He whispered the last part, almost afraid to voice the true extent to which he wanted a life with Even. It hadn’t been long that they had felt this way, but his feelings had been strong from the start, and he was sure of them. He sniffled, hiccupping a little with his tears, wishing he could just stop them already, end this miserable overflowing of emotions.

Even’s hands slipped around either side of his face, lifting it from his shoulder and cradling his cheeks as he looked at him.

“Believe me, that breaks my heart too. But…at least for me, anything I can have with you is worth it, Isak.”

Isak wanted to agree, to fall into Even’s arms and forget about all of this, make the most out of what they had. But the aching in his chest told him he wasn’t sure if he could do it. If having only part of something you needed so badly was better or worse than having none at all.

He watched Even’s face fall, his hopeful eyes turning disappointed as Isak pulled back, taking Even’s wrists and gently removing his hands from his face, and the sight made him hate himself a little, for causing this in the first place, for coming into Even’s life and causing them both pain.

“I…I just. I think I need a little time. To think, and figure out how I feel about all this.”

Even nodded reluctantly, lingering for a moment before he seemed to realize that that meant he had to leave.

“Well…you know where to find me?” he said hopefully, attempting a smile which came out as more of a grimace.

“Yes.” One last time, because he needed the reassurance, Isak leaned forward and kissed him, just staying there for a beat to let himself feel it.

Standing, Even turned his back to him and made his way back to climb down. The separation felt like a string tied between their hearts was being pulled taught, so tight it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Isak whispered after him, but he wasn’t sure if he could hear.

That night, he lay awake in bed, tossing and turning until sunrise.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In times of uncertainty, Isak had a couple of places he usually turned. One was introspection and overthinking, which he had done plenty of. One was going to the library and using the extensive stores of knowledge there to sort through his problem, but this particular dilemma was one he didn’t think books could help him with. The other was Jonas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, here's another chapter :) It's gonna be another roller coaster but I promise we're getting there. Hope everyone's staying safe and healthy! 
> 
> cw: brief, minor panic attack

Isak made himself stay away for a week.

He wanted to crawl back almost immediately, forget thinking, forget the future, just have Even now, because it was all he wanted. But he reminded himself, firmly, that that would only get him back in the position he had been in at the party. He could only feign ignorance for so long, fool himself that everything was alright, until it caught up with him.

Every day was miserable, seeming to drag on, the seconds turning the minutes, the minutes to hours. Scarcely a moment went by when he wasn’t thinking about Even, about what he must have been doing and feeling in the moment. He hoped this wasn’t as painful for Even as it was for him.

During this time, Isak did a lot of thinking. He thought about how he felt for Even, how he felt when he was around him. He imagined, as vividly as he could, what it would be like to not have that anymore, the pain of losing him, of letting him go off on the journey of his own life without him. It would be awful, but would the pain fade, eventually? Would he someday be able to move on? Then, he imagined what it would be like to go on like they had been for the past few weeks forever. It was hard to picture them still sneaking around and hiding their relationship like this years down the line, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe they could find a way to make it work.

He also did a lot of watching. It turned out that, once he started paying attention, there were couples all over the place. People in love walked the streets hand in hand, traversed the canals together, laughing and talking closely, went to the market together to buy produce and fresh bread to bring back to their homes.

It hurt to watch, and Isak knew that in a way he was needlessly torturing himself by flooding himself with images of happy couples out in the open who had something he knew wasn’t available to him. But at the same time, Isak was trying to do a form of research. He wanted to get a better understanding of what it was he would be missing out on, what it really meant to be with someone publicly.

It certainly hadn’t done many favors for his parents, being married. They probably did love each other once, but the stress of his mother’s illness and the many years raising a child with each other had turned that into more of a cold tolerance. That was something he had recognized in a lot of other couples over the years, those who had been together for a long time and for whom the feelings had at some point faded, but they had no option but to remain together. But he knew that wasn’t the case for everyone. And sitting on a park bench, watching the young couples stroll past, alight with the excitement of new love, when everything seems possible, it felt deeply unfair that he and Even couldn’t be one of them.

Even’s words on the rooftop came back to him, ringing in his ears. The way Even saw it, it was possible for them to be together, to find a community that would allow them to be themselves, maybe not out in the park or in the eyes of greater society, but in their own shared lives. Would that really work? He wasn’t sure. But the idea that he could find a way to not have to let go of Even was appealing, to say the least.

In times of uncertainty, Isak had a couple of places he usually turned. One was introspection and overthinking, which he had done plenty of. One was going to the library and using the extensive stores of knowledge there to sort through his problem, but this particular dilemma was one he didn’t think books could help him with. The other was Jonas. Maybe he couldn’t exactly explain the details of his problem to him, but he didn’t need to – Jonas had a way of telling him exactly what he needed to hear, in his calm, thoughtful way, and not asking too many questions when he could tell Isak wasn’t ready to give him answers.

Luring him with the promise of food, Isak arranged for him and Jonas to meet and go to the old ruins west of Jonas’s home. The half-fallen stone walls of the building stood in the middle of a forest clearing, nature having started to take back over. It was a place that held a lot of memories for the two of them. They had frequented it when they were younger, climbing and falling and chasing each other around with sticks as swords, then, later, using it as a private oasis, sitting up on the walls and sharing bottles of wine stolen from their parents’ cabinets, chatting about anything and everything.

Now felt a lot like those old days as they both climbed up into their respective favorite spots and Isak started to unfold the cloth full of food that he had brought along.

“Jesus Christ, why did you want to do this outside?” Jonas complained, stuffing his hands in his pockets and pushing his shoulders up to his ears. “There’s a reason nobody else is out; it’s _November_.”

“Just eat,” Isak said with a smile, rolling his eyes.

Turning attention to the food in front of him, Jonas grinned and took his hands out of his pockets to rub them together excitedly.

“Okay, what’s up?” he asked through a mouthful of bread.

Isak shrugged. “Nothing; can’t I just want to hang out with my best friend?”

Jonas eyed him, raising one of his bushy eyebrows. “Yes, but you want to talk about something.”

Sometimes Isak wished Jonas didn’t know him so well.

He sighed, leaning back against the stone and settling in. “Maybe. But…let’s talk about other things first, okay?”

Jonas complied, and they wove in and out of a number of different topics the way they often did, just talking about whatever subject crossed their minds, debating and pondering and pretending they actually knew something about it, which they usually didn’t. Eventually, Isak directed them to the topic of love.

“Do you think it’s worth it to be with someone you love, even if you don’t know if it will make the two of you happy in the end?” Isak asked suddenly, staring up at the sky, arms crossed behind his head.

Jonas frowned thoughtfully, mulling it over for a long minute. “Well, I suppose that depends on your priorities, and how you feel about each other,” he reasoned. “I mean, plenty of people get married when they don’t even really like each other, just out of convenience, and plenty of people who are in love end up with someone else because of…money, or society, or whatever. But for some people, and for some kinds of love, to experience that love is enough for them, better than to never have had it at all, even if that would have saved them some pain.”

“But…how do you know if it’s that kind of love?”

Jonas laughed softly, looking over at Isak with one eyebrow raised. “You’re thinking about this one a lot, huh?”

“ _Jonas,_ ” he whined, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay. I think it’s hard to explain, but easy to recognize. Like, that kind of love they talk about in the poems and the books and the songs. The kind where your souls are connected, bound together, and you can’t imagine life without them. When they know you deeply and want the best for you, and you’re happiest when you’re with them.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I think it’s something like that.”

Isak hummed in agreement, just to have an excuse to stay quiet for a minute and think over what Jonas had said. His words had kind of struck a chord, and they gave him a lot to think about. He was reminded by this conversation of what a good friend Jonas was, and what a thoughtful and reasonable person he could be.

“I guess you can be kind of smart sometimes,” he admitted, and Jonas scoffed.

“You’re just realizing that now?!”

As Isak walked home, he was staring at his feet, kicking rocks and thinking.

Things still seemed uncertain, and really, none of the problems that faced him had been solved, but he was starting to realize that none of that mattered in the face of the one thing that did. He had missed Even so much in just the past week, thinking about him all the time, waking up in the morning expecting him to be there and struggling to fall asleep in the evenings without his warmth by his side. As much as he had tried to logically evaluate his situation and determine which path forward would leave them with the least heartache, all that had become clear was that now that he had Even, he couldn’t let him go, not without tearing his own heart out in the process.

At a certain point in his walk, he realized that he was no longer heading home.

When he arrived in front of Even’s building, he stood there frozen, staring up at the door. The man he knew was the love of his life was on the other side, waiting for him, probably missing him just as much, worrying that Isak wouldn’t come back. But of course he would. He needed to see Even’s smile, hear his laugh, feel the comfort that only came from being held in his arms, tell him everything that was on his mind and listen to him do the same.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

“Isak!” Even exclaimed when he opened the door, face transitioning from surprised to elated, and the sight of his happy smile sent warm flutters all through Isak’s chest. He couldn’t believe he had willingly gone without this. His every instinct wanted him to throw himself into Even’s arms, and by Even’s aborted movement towards him, he felt the same, but they were still outside, open to the busy square. Stepping aside, Even gestured him in.

“Mikael isn’t here,” he said as soon as he’d closed the door behind them, giving Isak the permission he needed to fling himself at Even, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into his skin, making Even hold him tighter.

“So did I,” Even whispered into his hair, inhaling his scent.

Without letting go of each other, they shuffled over to the bed in the corner and tumbled down onto it, just needing to hold each other. Isak breathed deeply, feeling so much of the tension and anxiety that had been building in him melt away with Even’s presence. Whatever was happening, Even made everything feel alright.

After lying on their sides together for a few minutes, basking in each other’s presence to make up for the last week, Isak pulled back so that he could look Even in the face, wanting to speak but finding himself unsure where to start. He looked down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he searched for the words, Even reaching out and playing with a few strands of his hair, signaling that he would wait as long as he needed.

“I’m still upset,” he began, his voice unexpectedly a little hoarse. “but I realized I couldn’t stay away any longer.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Even smiled, but Isak could see the worry and pain lingering behind it.

“I love you,” he stated firmly. “And everything else might be shit, but…that’s all it really comes down to. I love you and I want as much as I can have with you. Because love, what I feel with you, is enough. It’s all I need. To get to experience this at all is a miracle.”

Even’s eyes were soft and shining as he nodded. “We’ll figure out the rest together.”

They kissed then, fiercely, until they were breathless and dizzy, still clinging together a while longer before they were forced to pull apart. Catching their breaths, they met each other’s eyes and both broke into breathless laughter, almost in disbelief at the joy bubbling up inside of them at this resolution. Unable to stay apart for long, Even dove in to kiss him again, toppling him over onto his back and following on top of him.

“I promise,” he said, eyes flicking down to his lips and kissing him again, “that I will love you for the rest of my life.”

He propped himself up on his arms, looking Isak in the eyes and making sure he could see how deeply he meant the words.

Isak nodded, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat. He tilted his head up, straining to reach Even’s lips.

“So will I,” he whispered before their lips met.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, Even having assured him that Mikael wouldn’t be home until nighttime. He didn’t seem too concerned about it, either way, and Isak wondered if Mikael was maybe aware of more of the situation than he had realized. He filed the question away for later. Right now, they couldn’t be bothered to do anything than lay in the broad streaks of warm sunlight that the late-afternoon sun painted across the bed, staring at each other dreamily, hands tracing skin, fingers twirling through locks of hair.

“We’ll move somewhere, and we’ll get a beautiful house with a garden and lots of big windows – good lighting for your paintings, of course, and we’ll just live there together, screw whatever everyone else thinks about it.”

Even grinned at Isak’s daydreaming, and pulled him in closer with a hand on his waist.

“Oh? And will you cook for me?” he asked playfully.

“Pfft, no,” Isak scoffed, “I’ll be working at the nearby university, making incredible scientific discoveries, I won’t have time to cook. You’ll have to do it in between painting sessions.”

Even hummed in response, raising his eyebrows and winking as he chuckled.

He was quiet for a minute, thinking, and then turned more serious.

“And what will you do about people having suspicions about us, starting rumors or thinking less of us because of them?”

It was something Isak had worried about, another reason that having a life together had seemed unlikely if not impossible, but now it didn’t seem that important in the face of everything. Being with Even was worth whatever came with it, and more.

“Well,” he began in a playful tone, but still sincere, “I suppose I’ll just have to be a brilliant enough scholar, and you a great enough artist, that people will have no choice but to accept it or keep their thoughts to themselves.”

A wide smile grew on Even’s face. “I like the sound of that.”

Eventually, they could no longer ignore the grumbling of their stomachs, and Even got up to make them some food. While he did, Isak clung unhelpfully to his back, his arms wrapped around his waist and his chin resting on his shoulder, watching what he was doing. When he was finished, he turned around, holding Isak face to face instead and drawing him in with his arms draped lazily around the small of his back. They just smiled at each other for a moment, trading pecks and bumping the tips of their noses together.

Isak giggled, confused, when Even started rocking them back and forth slightly, turning them as he did. His hand skated down Isak’s arm until he took his wrist and lifted it up and out, then laced their fingers together. Isak went along with it, letting Even move him, blinking up at him as a smile crept onto his face when he realized that they were dancing.

“What are you doing?” he asked, blushing.

“Dancing with you,” Even said matter-of-factly, sweeping them into a real dance, leading as they moved across the floor. Maybe Isak stumbled a few times, his feet not used to doing the steps in this direction, and maybe they didn’t make the perfect picture, dancing alone in the middle of Even’s studio with no music, but it didn’t matter; Isak’s heart was soaring either way.

“I know you’re sad about the things we can’t do together,” Even continued, “but I want you to know I will do everything I can to find a way to make them happen in our own way.”

Isak didn’t have the words to respond, so he just kissed him. It felt like something settled between them, solidified and worked its way into their very bones. They were joined, now, and neither one of them was going to back out of it; it was too late for that. It was the two of them against the world from now on.

They kept dancing, lost in each other’s eyes, probably missing steps and losing their form but neither of them noticed or cared. Even started humming, providing their own music and making Isak laugh when he spun him around. As the room around them faded away, Isak imagined they were somewhere else, back in that house at that fancy party, and Even had pulled him out onto the dance floor in front of everyone without a second thought. He imagined they were dressed in their fine clothes, the music playing in the background, other couples spinning around them, just barely missing each other as they floated across the floor.

It was a nice thought, but when the picture in his head faded away, he found he was perfectly happy to be right here, just the two of them dancing to the beat of Even’s humming while the dinner sat getting cold on the kitchen table.

After that, things got better. Nothing about their situation had changed, but Isak found himself largely treasuring all the times they could be together, instead of resenting the times that they couldn’t. Sometimes he did still feel that way, sometimes he was struck anew by the injustice of it all, but when he did, they would talk about it, and Even would listen and let him get his feelings out, and things would end up okay.

Because the weather was getting colder and colder, their options for spending time together were more limited to times when either one of their houses were empty, or, frequently, when Even could sneak in Isak’s window and the two of them could hole up in his room with no one the wiser. They got quite adept at hiding, to the point where they didn’t really mind having to do it; it was natural for them to keep their voices down and stay alert for sounds approaching.

At one point, Isak’s parents had the doctor come to check on him, worried that “He’s been sick so often this winter; it seems like he’s spent more time laid up in bed in his room than he’s been outside,” and Isak had to pinch himself to keep himself from snickering.

They made plans together, staying up into the early hours of the morning, lying on their stomachs on his bed and whispering in the candlelight. Some of them were outlandish fantasy, but some of them were serious.

They did things outside together as well, in situations where they could keep up the image of close friends fairly easily. They would shop together at the market, bickering about what kind of bread to buy, giggling at the funny names of the cheeses imported from the Netherlands.

Even was painting a lot, seeming to overflow with inspiration and enthusiasm lately, sometimes staying up all night working on one of his own projects. Isak chided him lightly for that, saying he needed his sleep, but Even insisted it was fine, that this was how artists worked. His favorite subject by far was Isak, taking any opportunity he could to sketch him or paint him, filling up notebooks with tributes to a single one of his features. Isak would roll his eyes and blush and complain, but secretly preen at the attention.

If Even loved drawing Isak, what he loved even more was drawing Isak in various stages of undress, saying he was most beautiful when he was naked, all of him on display – and he was doing plenty of that as well. In fact, Even’s desire for him seemed to be at an all-time high; he was insatiable of late, and they almost spent as much time having sex as they spent doing anything else. Not that Isak was complaining – quite the opposite. He was enjoying every moment of this, loving the fact that they could be so close to each other, so intimate, spending some nights – or sometimes mornings, or afternoons – nearly drowning in the pleasure Even gave him.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought this on, chalking it up mostly to their renewed commitment to each other and the closeness and happiness that that brought. The fact that he could now be sure that Even was his for good made him want to claim him in all the ways he could.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, they were lying under Isak’s blanket, which had been thrown over both of their heads to form a little tent, enclosed and warm and glowing with the light coming through the ivory fabric. They were both still on the tail end of catching their breaths after a particularly vigorous round of sex, chests flushed red and covered in a sheen of sweat. Isak was lying on his side pressed up against Even, idly tracing patterns on the skin of his stomach with his fingers, watching it rise and fall with his breath.

With a yawn, Even stretched, reaching his arms up and collapsing their tent in the process, Isak giving a squawk of protest as he was trapped under the blanket until Even pushed it down to their waists.

“Sorry,” Even laughed, “my muscles are all sore.”

“Mmm,” Isak hummed, pushing his face further into Even’s chest and letting his eyes flutter closed, comfort and lethargy gradually pulling him under. “What should we do tomorrow?” he mumbled, barely comprehensibly, but Even seemed to understand him.

Tomorrow was the first day of a weekend during which Mikael would be out of town the whole time. Isak had cleverly mentioned offhand to his parents a couple of weeks earlier that the university was having a symposium that he would be attending at that time, so they weren’t expecting him home, giving Even and him free reign over the weekend.

“I think…” Even mused, “that we should put up all the drawings and paintings I’ve ever done of you, all over the walls, and hold an exhibition here for everyone to see.”

Isak rolled his eyes. “Great idea,” he said sarcastically, grinning.

“I’m serious.”

“No you’re not.”

“Alright, well…maybe I have a better idea anyway,” Even said, voice going low and mischievous, before he swiftly flipped their position and pounced on Isak, rolling him under him. His eyes were dark and focused, and Isak felt a bit like a mouse trapped by a cat, but far more excited about it. “How about I see how many times I can make you come in one day,” he growled, already laying open-mouthed kisses down Isak’s neck and chest.

“Even,” he giggled, squirming at the ticklish sensation on his over-sensitive skin, “we’ve barely recovered from the last time!” 

“I fail to see the problem,” Even responded, moving lower before sinking his teeth into Isak’s hip, turning his laughter into a moan. Simultaneously, his hand found its way between Isak’s thighs, two fingers sinking into him with little resistance where he was already loose and wet.

Turning his head, Even mouthed up Isak’s rapidly hardening length, eyes flicking up to watch him shudder and sigh, lips parting, as Even quickly found his prostate. His legs parted automatically, and his belly grew warm with want. It didn’t matter anymore that he’d just had Even; he wanted him again.

“Come up here,” Isak breathed, and Even obeyed, only slipping his fingers out when Isak pulled impatiently on his wrist so that he could flip over onto his stomach, lifting his hips up in the air and arching his back. “I want it like this,” he instructed.

Draped over his back, Even filled him, rocking deep into him at a quick pace as Isak gripped the sheets beneath him in his fists. They didn’t bother to be quiet, with no one around to overhear them, and they didn’t care to draw it out this time, both of them just filling an immediate need, chasing their release.

Isak wasn’t sure if he’d be able to move tomorrow morning, considering how much use his body had gotten in the past few days, but he was also pretty sure he wouldn’t have to lift a finger if he didn’t want to; Even would let him lie in bed and get him anything he needed if he asked.

The next morning, Isak discovered that he was absolutely correct in his prediction, wincing as soon as he first tried to get up, but unfortunately, he couldn’t actually indulge in a day in bed. He had a quick but necessary errand to run at the university, and he kissed Even goodbye at the door after he had convinced his muscles to work. While he was there, one of his professors commented that he was walking with a limp and asked if he had hurt himself, to which Isak responded that he had just twisted his ankle on an uneven pavestone on the way there, using all his self-control to suppress his laughter. He made a mental note to tell Even later.

When he got back, he opened the door without a key, because Even never kept it locked when he was inside. Before he saw anything, he smelled it – he was immediately struck by a strong, sweet scent, almost overwhelmingly so. Inside, he found himself faced with a veritable garden’s worth of flowers – in vases and jars and other random objects, loose or in bundles lying over the floor or on the bed, all placed around Isak’s side of the bed and overflowing outward. He stood frozen, gaping at the display, until a clang came from the kitchen, and Even rushed over, coming up behind him and putting his hands on Isak’s shoulders.

“Do you like them?” he asked excitedly.

Isak…wasn’t sure how to react. They were beautiful, filling the room with a brilliant tapestry of color, and it was a very sweet gesture, clearly done for him, but…all he could do at the moment was feel surprised.

“They’re…they’re beautiful, Even,” he finally got out, still blinking and standing where he had stopped in the entryway.

Even gleamed, kissing him hard on the cheek. “I’m glad you like them. I wanted to make you happy when you got home,” he explained, grabbing Isak’s hands and walking backwards, pulling him towards that corner of the room.

Isak let out a bemused half-laugh. “That’s…thank you. I-I don’t know what to say.”

He was still confused – it wasn’t unlike Even to want to do something nice for him, or to make a romantic gesture, but this was just… a lot. It occurred to him that it was winter, so these flowers must have all been the imported ones that were at the market all year round – and that were much more expensive than regular flowers.

“Even, this must have cost a fortune!” he frowned, finally turning to look at Even, who was shrugging and brushing it off.

“It’s fine. I got paid the other day for that commission for the Bjølstads, anyway.”

The mention of a commission reminded Isak of something, and momentarily shifted his attention.

“Speaking of that, have you done any work on the piece for Holmens Kirke lately?” he asked at the same time that his gaze scanned across the studio to find the large canvas sitting nearly blank, the same way it had been two weeks ago.

“No,” Even sighed. “It’s no good. I don’t want to work on it.”

Isak didn’t push back, trusting that Even knew how to manage his work himself, even though he knew that the deadline for that particular commission was quickly approaching.

“Of course it’s good,” he said gently instead, walking over to Even and looping his arms around his neck. “Everything you make is good.” He kissed him sweetly, and put the flowers, and why Even got them, and what on earth they were going to do with all of them, out of his mind. Still, there was an acidic feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t shake once it appeared, that feeling when you just knew in your gut that something was wrong but couldn’t put a name to it, leaving it to linger and fester in the background.

Isak awoke disoriented, still half asleep but gradually becoming aware of his surroundings, and some disturbance that had pulled him from his slumber. There was light hitting his eyelids, but it didn’t feel like morning, and as he woke, he realized it was flickering like the light from a fire, or a candle. As his awareness sharpened, he realized that he was hearing the now-familiar scratching of charcoal on paper, punctuated by the occasional sigh and creaking of floorboards.

Frowning, he forced himself to crack his eyes open, rubbing his face with his hand. Even looked up, noticing his movement, and saw that he was awake.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Did I wake you up?”

“Even…” Isak groaned, shutting his eyes against the bright light of the candle Even was working by, before reluctantly opening them again and shifting, turning over onto his back. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“I’m drawing you,” Even explained.

“Well, yeah, I kind of figured that out. But why are you doing that in the middle of the night?”

Even frowned, like he didn’t understand the question. “I don’t know, I couldn’t sleep and you always make me feel better but you were asleep so I decided to draw you instead.”

As the last cobwebs of sleep fell off of him, Isak was hit with the full realization of the situation. Even was up, in the middle of the night, furiously drawing him sleeping in his notebook by candlelight. The feeling in his stomach grew, and he swallowed it back.

“Even,” he whispered, turning back on his side to look at him. “Come back to bed. Please?”

Even looked at him, then back at the unfinished sketch in his notebook, like he was conflicted.

“You’re worrying me,” Isak added, his voice small, unconsciously clutching tighter to the pillow beneath his head.

Immediately, Even’s eyes widened, and he put his notebook aside to come closer, stroking Isak’s hair.

“Baby, don’t be worried,” he cooed.

Isak felt a lump in his throat, and he fought back the tears that threatened to fill his eyes, because he _was_ worried, but he didn’t know what to say, or what to do. This strange behavior confused him, something seemed wrong, but he had no idea what could be causing it, no explanation or reference to help him place what he was feeling. All he could do was unwrap an arm from the covers and reach his hand out towards Even, asking again for him to join him until he did, and they curled up comfortably together. He felt Even’s heart beating quickly against his back, and it didn’t slow down before he fell back into a fitful sleep.

“ _Oh, fuck_.”

“Yeah, that’s right angel, that’s right, you’re so good.”

“ _Even_.”

“What, baby? What do you need?”

Isak screwed his eyes shut in pleasure, throwing his head back as he rose up and down on Even’s cock, riding him. Even’s grip on his waist was firm, his fingers making deep indentations where they anchored them together, helping Isak move and encouraging him to chase his release.

With a few strokes of Even’s hand, Isak came, his hips stuttering and then stopping while Even spilled inside of him, making him moan at the last bit of stimulation. He collapsed on top of him, letting himself lie there for a moment, catching his breath, before he moved to the side to relieve Even from his weight.

They lay there, basking in the afterglow. Isak smirked when he noticed the hickeys left on Even’s chest and the bottom of his throat – carefully placed just under where his shirt collar would lie – pleased with his handiwork. He traced them with his fingertips before Even caught his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his fingertips playfully. They stared at each other warmly, getting lost in each other’s eyes, and despite Isak’s mounting concerns over the past few days, right now, things felt good.

The day hadn’t been bad, so far, and it was only late morning, but they had been making the most of their time together. Mikael was due back that night, so they had half a day left, and they had big plans to go to the market to buy as many decorations as they could find and then decorate the studio for the approaching Yule season. It was, realistically, a little too early to be decorating for something that was weeks away, but neither of them really cared, already getting excited for the holiday cheer.

Isak stretched, then sat up with significant effort, wishing they didn’t have to actually get out of bed and get the day started.

“Do you think we should bathe?” Isak asked, counting back in his head how long it had been. “We’ve probably accumulated quite a bit of sweat over the past few days…”

Even had opened his mouth to answer when suddenly there was an unexpected disruption of their silence. They both whipped their heads around, just in time to see the door swing open and Mikael saunter in, unhesitating.

He turned, spotting them, and Isak watched as his face shifted from expectation to surprise, his eyebrows rising, his mouth falling open.

Isak was frozen. He always thought that if this ever happened, God forbid, he would be fast, and he would be clever. He would leap away and come up with some plausible excuse that at least gave them the benefit of the doubt for why they were in the compromising position they were found in. But instead, he just sat there, shocked, barely covered by the sheet lying over his lap, but clearly naked in bed next to Even, both of them flushed, covered in marks, and with mussed hair. The blood started rushing in Isak’s ears, his heart pounding and his veins running cold. This was the moment he had dreaded, and it was coming true, right now in this moment, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Mikael said, averting his gaze and dropping his bags on the ground.

“Mikael!” Even exclaimed behind him, making Isak jump. He expected Even to be in much the same state he was in, frozen with shock and rapidly descending into panic – certainly not to greet his friend happily and jump out of bed to go over to him – still completely naked.

Isak couldn’t process what was going on, just kept blinking, utterly confused and quickly becoming terrified.

Mikael dodged Even’s hug, clearly being the other one in the room who noticed the fact that Even wasn’t wearing any clothes, and Even seemed to notice, looking down and then grabbing a pair of loose trousers tossed onto a chair and pulling them up over his hips.

The moment passed enough for Isak to break out of his paralysis and he scrambled to pull the sheet up to his chin, covering himself and backing against the wall. He couldn’t believe what was happening, and why the earth hadn’t exploded yet, and what was going to happen next, who would be the first person Mikael would tell, when would his parents find out…

He was aware that he was starting to hyperventilate, and the room had started spinning, but it wasn’t until Mikael hit Even’s arm and pointed to him that Even turned and noticed.

“Oh! Isak, it’s okay,” he hurried, rushing over to him and bouncing down onto the bed next to him, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Mikael already knows. Well, he knows about me – I didn’t tell him about you, in case you didn’t want him to know, but he knows.”

“Well, I’d kind of guessed about you two too,” Mikael added, shrugging. “But I’m sorry, I know you weren’t expecting me until later. I should have knocked or something…I can go, give you guys some privacy—”

“No, stay!” Even exclaimed, leaping back up to stop his friend from leaving. “You’re home now, we can all hang out – Isak and I were going to decorate, you can help. Oh, and we can make dinner together!”

Mikael nodded, glancing over to Isak worriedly, before he took his bags and went to start unpacking.

Even came back over, crawling onto the bed on his knees and kneeling in front of Isak, taking his cheeks in both his hands and looking into his eyes.

“Hey, it’s all okay. I know that was a surprise, but there’s nothing wrong. Are you alright now?”

Isak nodded hesitantly, taking a shaky breath. His heart was calming, his panic easing, now that he knew disaster had apparently been averted.

The rest of the night was strange. Isak’s worry about Even was mounting, spurred on by the fact that he could tell that Mikael was worried too. He had been watching Even carefully all evening, looking clearly concerned, and sharing meaningful glances with Isak. Isak was pretty sure Mikael wanted to talk to him about something, but there was never a chance to talk when Even wasn’t around, with the three of them being together all evening.

That night, after dinner and decorating were through, Isak had to head back home. His excuse only lasted through the weekend, so his parents would be expecting him back at home tomorrow morning. Even was accompanying him, probably planning to stay the night like he usually did and go back in the morning. Isak was glad, at least, that Even would be with him – right now, he felt like he would worry about him if they were apart.

The walk was fairly uneventful, aside from Even’s slight restlessness, and by the time they climbed in Isak’s window, he was more than ready to crawl into bed and go to sleep, exhausted from the day’s events. They shed their outer layers, getting into nightclothes quickly so they could get in between the sheets and get warm. Isak was turned around, putting his clothes back in his wardrobe, when he felt a cold burst of air against his back.

Turning around, he saw that Even had thrown open the window, and before he could ask what he was doing or tell him to stop letting the cold air in, Even was climbing through the window and hopping right down to the ground.

For a moment, Isak just stood and blinked at the empty window, stunned with confusion for the second time that day. He wasn’t sure what he had just seen, or if he was imagining it, but he ran to the window, leaning on the frame and looking out.

“Even?!” he called, not caring about being loud or waking his parents up. When he spotted him, he saw that he was already yards away, walking purposefully through the lawn. He turned at the sound of Isak’s voice, looking up to the window and pausing for a second. “What are you doing?!”

Even grinned, eyes lighting up. “I’m going to the beach!” he exclaimed happily, before turning back around and continuing to walk briskly through the yard, disappearing into the dark vegetation before Isak could react.

Isak shivered, both from the cold and from the sudden fear that struck him. He realized then that it was, in fact, freezing outside, and the middle of the night, and Even was only wearing thin trousers and a nightshirt. Shoving himself off of the window frame, Isak grabbed his coat from where he had thrown it over a chair, putting it on and pulling boots over his feet as quickly as he possibly could. As a last-second thought, he grabbed Even’s coat as well before he climbed through the window after him, almost catching his foot on it and falling in his hurry.

He ran, his feet pounding on the ground almost as hard as his heart was pounding in his chest. When he reached the edge of his garden, he spun around, looking everywhere frantically, but he didn’t see Even. His mind was spiraling into a panic, but he forced himself to stop, take a deep breath, and think. Even had said he was going to the beach. That was no guarantee that he was actually going in the right direction to get to the beach, considering his current state, but…it was all Isak had to go on.

So he took off again, his feet carrying him along the familiar path towards the ocean, one he had taken so many times, that was associated with so many happy memories – nothing like this. His lungs were burning and his face was freezing, whipped with cold wind, but nothing made it into his mind other than the ever-repeating thought of _Even, Even, Even_.

When he rounded a corner on the dirt road, his eyes found a figure ahead of him, and he immediately knew it was Even, despite only being able to see a vague shadowy shape of a human.

“Even!” he cried out, his voice cracking on the word, betraying the way he was breaking inside.

Even turned around when he heard him. He looked surprised but happy to see him, stopping to let him catch up.

“Isak! What are you doing here? I’m going to the beach, do you want to come?”

“Even, Even you have to stop,” Isak panted, trying to stay calm, to not break down in front of Even when he needed to be helping him. “Here, put this on,” he instructed, holding the coat up to him and trying to put it on him, but Even shrugged it off.

“Don’t be silly,” he laughed, “you don’t wear coats to the beach.”

“Even, you can’t go to the beach. It’s freezing and it’s the middle of the night.”

Not listening, Even turned and started walking again, Isak stumbling after him. Even in the dim moonlight, he could see how Even’s skin was already getting red with cold, and his desperation grew. He was going to catch a cold, at the very least, and Isak didn’t want to think about what could happen at the worst. He needed to stop this, somehow, starting with getting Even to put his coat on and then bringing him back home and warming him as quickly as possible.

“Even, please,” he pleaded, struggling to keep up with Even’s long strides. “We can go to the beach another time, let’s just not do it now. Please. Even, you’re scaring me.”

None of Isak’s words seemed to be heard until the last ones. The pain and fear in his voice pierced through whatever haze was filling Even’s mind, and he stopped, a frown on his face.

“I’m sorry, baby. Don’t be scared. I-I’m sorry.” He looked confused, like halting his fast pace had given room for cracks to appear in his thinking. He was no longer trying to run off again, or overflowing with energy, and Isak took it as a fragile window of opportunity.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he needed to be strong and take care of this for Even.

“Even, I’m cold,” he said – the truth, but also a strategy. If Even wouldn’t worry about himself, perhaps he would still worry about Isak. “Can we please just go home?”

It worked. Even nodded, letting Isak put his coat on him and take his hand. He shuddered at how cold Even’s fingers were and hurried their pace, pulling him along.

As they walked, Even stayed quiet. When they were getting close, he started looking around him, eyes flitting to the trees, the scattered houses, no recognition in them. He moved in closer to Isak, pressing against his side.

“I don’t know where we are,” he whispered, confused and frightened. “Why are we here?”

“It’s okay, we’re almost home,” Isak soothed. “Don’t worry about it. We’re almost there.”

Even didn’t argue, but stayed close to Isak, and continued to look around himself suspiciously. He looked smaller than Isak had ever seen him, and his chest tightened painfully.

They made it to his house, crawling through the window, and Even was shivering violently. Isak hurried to take his clothes off and put him in new, warm clothes, piling him under a mountain of blankets in bed and pleading with him to stay put while he hurried to start a fire in the fireplace.

As soon as he’d gotten it going, he turned his attention to Even. The first thing he noticed was that his demeanor was completely changed, all of that energy and agitation gone, replaced by something even more painful to see. Isak sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to pet Even’s hair, his head the only part of his peeking out of the blankets. His nose was bright red, and the rest of his face was terribly pale. Even’s eyes flickered over to him at the touch, landing on his for a moment before looking down. They were clearer now – the intangible sense Isak had had before that he couldn’t reach Even, that something wasn’t connecting when he looked in his eyes, was gone, but now they were dull and sad. He was clearly exhausted, understandably, and even though Isak had no knowledge of whatever it was that had happened, he got the sense that it was finished now.

He got up for only a moment, just to take off his own coat and boots, before he was crawling into the bed, shuffling up next to Even. Wrapping his arms around him, he held him close, whispering comforting words to him as his eyes slipped closed.

“Just go to sleep, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He knew he had to be strong, in this moment when Even needed him. He would be strong enough for the both of them. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're getting so close to the end! As always, thank you all so much for reading <3

When Isak woke the next morning, Even was gone.

It was a cruelly beautiful morning, unfairly peaceful for the turmoil going on in Isak’s heart. Sometimes he thought about how strange it was that life could follow such different paths for different people at the exact same moment. On particularly pleasant days, he would wonder if any of the people he saw passing by were having the worst day of their lives, and he would never know about it. Or on days when the world felt like it was crashing down on him, days like today, he would see friends laughing together on the street and realize that this was just an ordinary day for them, that his struggles were so isolated, so contained within his own life.

So when he blinked his eyes open that morning, uncomfortably hot and sweating from the excess of blankets covering him and the warmth from the fire, its last embers still burning, and rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty, he shut his eyes tight for a moment, wishing that he could transport himself to one of those innocuous days that didn’t matter, temporarily take on the life of one of those other people.

He walked briskly into the city, heading directly for Even’s studio, figuring that was the most likely place for him to be – or maybe just hoping, desperately hoping.

When he knocked on the front door, it was opened by Mikael, and the first thing out of his mouth was: “Even’s here, he’s okay.”

Isak nodded, letting out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and entered the studio as Mikael moved aside, nodding him in.

It took him a moment to find Even. He scanned the room, and was about to ask Mikael where he was when he took a closer look at the mound of blankets piled on the bed and realized it was Even. He walked over to him carefully, leaning over the bed and putting a hand on his shoulder, alerting him to his presence. Even didn’t react when Isak touched him, but he didn’t draw his hand away, instead starting to stroke him through the sheets.

“Even,” he said softly, trying to make his voice as unobtrusive and gentle as possible, “hi, I’m here.”

There was still no response. He wanted to help, to at least do _something_ , but he had no idea what Even needed, so he floundered, looking around for something useful to do.

“Do you need water? I’ll get you water.” He didn’t wait for a response, realizing he wouldn’t get one, and got up to fill up a glass for him. Mikael was leaning against the kitchen table, arms crossed, watching them.

Isak brought the glass back, unsuccessfully urging Even to sit up and drink some of it, and then setting it down on the bedside table instead. He stood there, looking down at him, unsure what he should be doing, when Mikael came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked, nodding towards the door.

They stood outside, speaking in low voices.

“He came back early this morning and went straight to bed,” Mikael explained.

“What’s – do you know what’s going on?” Isak asked, hoping that maybe Even’s roommate would be able to give him some answers.

Mikael sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He…he gets like this, sometimes. It’s not very often, anymore – I only saw it once, shortly after we moved in together, and then he explained it to me. I’ll let him tell you in his own words, but you should expect him to be like this for a few weeks, gradually getting better. He will be very despondent, he won’t care about much, and he won’t want to get out of bed.”

Isak nodded, taking a deep breath and processing the information. He would take care of Even, stay there until he was better, do anything and everything he could to ease whatever Even was going through.

“I’m going to head out for the rest of the day and give you two some space, but you can count on me to take care of him when you’re not here to.”

When he came back inside, Even had fallen asleep. He looked peaceful, a contrast to his weary face when he was awake, staring blankly at the wall. Isak tucked the blankets around him, making sure no part of him would get cold. It was morning, and he wasn’t sleepy at all, but all he could think to do to help right now was just to be with Even, to comfort him physically, so he lay down next to him, curling up behind him and holding him.

Some number of hours later, Even awoke, rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly, looking around himself with a lethargic, dazed expression like it was taking him a while to process his surroundings, but he didn’t particularly care to hurry it up. When his eyes fell on Isak lying next to him, recognition flashed across his face, followed by a moment of confusion, before he closed his eyes again and gave a long sigh.

“I…I’m sorry I left,” he said, like each word took enormous effort to drag out of him. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with me like this.”

Isak shook his head emphatically. “Even, don’t apologize. It’s okay. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

There was a long pause, through which Isak waited patiently, watching Even’s mind work, so different from the bright and lively way it usually did.

“You should go,” he finally said, voice flat and emotionless. Isak frowned, trying not to feel hurt.

“But…I-I want to be here to take care of you,” he stuttered.

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me.” Even finally met his eyes fully, and he could see the torment in them, but it didn’t make him want to do anything but get closer, give whatever small comfort he could. “I don’t want to be a burden on you. I don’t want you to be sad, being around me like this.”

Isak had to take a moment to breathe deeply, swallow down the lump in his throat so it didn’t show in his voice.

“Even, I’m not going anywhere,” he stated firmly. “I’m going to take care of you, because I love you and you need me, and I want you to be okay.”

Even looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t have the energy. Instead, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, falling quiet again.

Deciding to take advantage of Even being awake, Isak made him a plate of food, whatever he could scrounge up from their kitchen, and made a mental note to himself to go to the market sometime when Mikael was home to get some fresh foods that might be more appealing. He placed it on the bedside table, not pushing Even to eat it, but making sure he knew it was there and giving him some space.

He didn’t eat his food, but when Isak came back after cleaning some dishes, he had drunk the water, which Isak counted as progress.

From there, a sort of routine emerged. Either Isak or Mikael would make sure to be at the house at all times, taking turns going to the market for food or leaving for their own errands. Most of the time, during those first couple of days, Even would be asleep, or near enough. Isak would sleep in bed with him, holding him and making sure he was warm and contained. He would lie awake, just watching him breathe, watching his eyes move under his eyelids, and stroke his hair or his chest. Sometimes, when he thought Even was awake, he would whisper every loving word he could think of to him, as a stray tear would occasionally escape down his cheek.

It took a few days before it occurred to Isak that he had just disappeared and his parents had no idea where he was – he had been so stressed and distracted that there was no room in his mind for something that seemed so insignificant. Even then, he was so exhausted and worried that all he could be bothered to do was to send a message to them with a half-assed made up reason that he had to be away from home and hope that they wouldn’t care enough to try to find him. He would deal with whatever consequences there were later.

One morning, or afternoon – they all kind of blended together – Even seemed to come out of his haze just a little, imbued with a bit more energy than he had been able to muster for the past couple of days. He pushed himself up on the bed until he was leaning back against the headboard, gulping down the glass of water that Isak always made sure was full, and rubbing his hands over his face roughly, like he was trying to wipe cobwebs off of it.

When this happened, Isak was sitting cross-legged on the end of his bed, with his books and paper spread on his lap, doing some of the studying he badly needed to catch up on. He looked up quickly, unable to help the smile that spread across his face at the sight. Putting his books aside hurriedly, he crawled up closer on the bed and sat in front of him, tilting his head to look at him carefully.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, trying not to put any pressure behind his words, but he was sure some hopefulness bled through.

Even took a minute to answer, shrugging instead of saying anything and straightening up further, wincing as his back cracked.

“This…happens sometimes,” he explained, staring at his hands in his lap. He was speaking, at least, but his voice still sounded bone-tired. “I should have told you earlier. I don’t know why, but ever since I was fifteen, sometimes I have these periods where I’m really energetic and excited, and my mind goes so fast, and eventually it gets too fast for me to keep up. And then I crash, and I have these feelings that are so dark, it feels like there’s no chance I’ll ever be happy again, like I’m in this hole I can’t crawl out of. I don’t want to do anything, and I’m exhausted all the time, and slowly it gets better until I’m back to normal again.”

Isak nodded along, giving him his full attention. His heart was breaking for him as he heard what he had to go through, the idea of the person he loved more than anything suffering like this making tears slip down his cheeks.

“I’ve figured out over the years that certain things help make it happen less often – keep me balanced. A lot of it has to do with routine, and making sure I don’t depart from it too far. Getting enough sleep, avoiding alcohol, staying away from things that induce intense emotions.”

As he explained, Isak automatically thought back over the past few weeks, and how many of those rules they had been breaking. He winced, feeling a little guilty, even though logically he realized there was no way he could have known.

“It’s been pretty well under control, but lately I’ve gotten worse about managing it. You know that time I disappeared for a few weeks, and I said I was sick? I was actually in one of my low periods, like this, just a pretty mild one.”

When Even finally looked up, Isak was wiping the tears off his face. His eyes widened at the sight, then turned pained. His face became darker, sinking as he appeared to spiral into his own despairing thoughts. Isak wanted to stop it, but he didn’t know how.

“I’m sorry. You-you shouldn’t have to deal with this. With me. You should go.”

“Even, no. I’m not going.”

“I’ll only hurt you, Isak,” he insisted, his own eyes now filling with tears. “And that’s – God, that the last thing I ever want to do. You’re precious, and I’ll just bring you down. I’ll make your life harder, I’ll scare you, just like your mother did, and I couldn’t live with myself if I caused you that kind of pain.”

“You don’t,” Isak interrupted, his voice increasing in volume and desperation as he felt where the conversation was going. “You make me so happy. We’ll figure this out, together. You shouldn’t be worrying about me right now; I’m here for you.”

Even shook his head. “No, you were right before – this can’t work.”

“What?”

“Isak, listen to me, it won’t work, not in the long term. I can’t make you happy, and you deserve to be happy. You should move on, try to forget me…”

He sounded so sure, so resigned to his belief that Isak should leave him. There was no hope in his voice, and Isak wasn’t even sure he would be able to change his mind. It killed him to hear Even talk like that.

Isak was shaking his head vigorously, denying every word Even had said. The rest of him was starting to shake too, wracked with tears that blurred his vision.

“Even, don’t say that. Please. It’s not true,” he hiccupped. He refused to let his happen. So much about their lives was so unfair, but they had found each other, and they had fought for each other, and Isak wouldn’t let that be taken away from him.

“Your mind is making you feel this way, like everything is dark and there’s no hope for anything good. But you _know_ that’s not true. You’re the one who convinced me that we should be together despite the world being against us. That love was the only thing that mattered. And you were right.”

Even didn’t respond, but he didn’t look convinced.

“So, just – just stop with that talk for right now. You don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, any more than anyone else does. I’m staying. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

At that moment, with Isak’s face stormy and tear-streaked, and Even’s heavy and grey, Mikael came back, walking into the remnants of their argument. He stopped, like he sensed the tension in the room immediately, and Isak wiped his face, sniffling and trying to pull himself together. Even seemed to deflate, losing what energy he had momentarily had and sinking back into the bed.

Isak shot Mikael a lame attempt at a smile before picking his books back up and pretending to study, even though his mind was spinning far too fast to focus on them.

It wasn’t long before Even had fallen back asleep, and Isak took the opportunity to quietly slip out, in desperate need of some fresh air.

Despite the brave face he was putting on for Even, the situation was taking a toll on him. It was painful to see the person he loved suffering, and the past few days had drained him. Things had been so good just a few days ago, they were finally making sense, and now it felt like everything was crashing down on him.

His feet carried him to Jonas’s front door, where he stood for a while before making his mind up and knocking, hoping Jonas’s parents wouldn’t come to the door – he wasn’t sure he could deal with anyone other than his best friend right now.

Jonas didn’t ask questions when he answered the door and Isak flatly asked if they could go for a walk. From his face, Isak knew that he could tell immediately that something was wrong, and he wasn’t surprised – the last time he had caught a glance of himself in a mirror he looked awful, pale and tired with dark circles under his eyes. Jonas let them walk in a comfortable silence, waiting for Isak to speak first. Eventually, Isak got tired of walking, so he picked a spot by the side of the road and plopped down, sighing heavily. Jonas followed, sitting next to him.

Now that they were here, he wasn’t really sure why he had decided to talk to Jonas about this. He needed to share his feelings, to unload just a little bit of his pain and stress over the past few days to someone who would understand, who would care. But he realized that, as far as Jonas knew, Even was just his friend. It wouldn’t make much sense for him to be so upset about a friend being unwell.

Still, he found himself talking anyway.

“It’s been a rough week.”

Next to him, Jonas hummed sympathetically. “What’s going on?” he asked gently, unintrusively. “You look…well, you look like shit, honestly.”

Isak gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, I bet I do.” He paused before his next words, giving himself the chance to keep things to himself but deciding his just didn’t want to. “Even’s sick. Not physically, but like…sort of like my mom gets. His mind is very dark right now. And I – I’m so worried about him,” he said, his throat getting tight. He bit his lip hard to keep a handle on himself.

There was a moment of silence before Jonas responded, and Isak could tell he was a little confused by Isak’s reaction, by the strength of his feelings about this, how much it was affecting him. He could feel Jonas thinking, wondering, and choosing his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Have you been…have you been taking care of him?”

Isak nodded, starting to sniffle, despite how hard he was trying not to.

“Good. You’re good at that.”

He could tell Jonas was holding back, wanting to probe further, but he knew he wouldn’t. Part of him actually almost wished that he would. He was so tired of having this whole huge part of his life that was only between Even and him. It would feel so much better if he could actually talk about what was really going on, if Jonas could truly understand what he and Even were going through. At this point, everything seemed so much bigger, so much more important than hiding his secret. And he was just so goddamn tired.

“I’m in love with Even.”

He stated it flatly, staring at his folded hands. It was surreal, feeling those words pass his lips, and his heartbeat picked up automatically, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care what the fallout was.

It seemed like forever before Jonas responded, and when Isak ventured a glance over at him, he appeared to be thinking. There was a slight frown on his face, but not one that was upset or angry, just thoughtful. Finally, he nodded slowly. Tilting his head to face him, he gave Isak a sympathetic half-smile.

“That must make it harder, then.”

Isak swallowed, staring at him wide-eyed. He wasn’t sure what reaction he had been expecting, but the one he got felt like such a huge relief that he could cry. Blinking rapidly, he realized that he actually was.

Before he could say anything, Jonas scooted closer, putting a comforting arm over Isak’s shoulders.

When Isak walked back to Even’s place, he felt substantially lighter. They had talked for a while longer, and just being able to share how he was feeling made everything less overwhelming. Jonas had been there for him, as always, with level-headed advice and kind words, and it was exactly what he needed. He knew he had to be strong, in this moment when Even needed him. He would be strong enough for the both of them.

As soon as he entered the studio, Isak went straight to the bed, where Even was curled up as usual. He crawled under the covers, shuffled up behind him and tucked his face against Even’s neck, wrapping his arms around him.

To his surprise, Even shifted, awake, turning over to face him. He didn’t look any better than Isak had left him, eyes barely open, no emotion registering on his face, but Isak wasn’t discouraged. He would get better, and Isak would be there to make sure he did.

With a long inhale and a slow exhale, Isak settled his heart. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Even’s ear, then left his hand there, stroking his cheek and temple softly.

“Do you remember what you told me, the day we kissed for the first time?”

Even’s brow creased with confusion as he thought.

“You were explaining the concept of chiaroscuro to me. You said that it was your favorite part of painting, because of how the contrast of light and dark makes things beautiful. You need the light, but the contrast of the light with the dark enhances everything.”

Even nodded hesitantly.

“Well, that’s just how you are – you have these moments of bright shining light and moments of sinking darkness and you are so incredibly beautiful.”

His voice grew hoarse with emotion as he spoke, and Even’s eyes shone. His hand came out from under the covers to wrap around Isak’s wrist, holding it where he was still stroking Even’s face.

“I’m not trying to say that what’s happening to you is good, or easy. It’s terrible and difficult and I’m sorry you have to go through it. But it doesn’t make you a bad person, or a burden, or someone who doesn’t deserve love. You deserve love, and you have mine, and nothing could make me love you any less. I will fight with everything I can to make this work between us, because I want a life with you, just like we’d planned. You made me believe in us when I was at my lowest point. Now it’s my turn.”

By the time he had finished, both of them had tears spilling from their eyes.

“Okay,” Even whispered, managing a ghost of a smile.

They leaned in to each other and kissed, just once, softly, affirmingly, and only parted to curl into each other. Neither of them fell asleep, but they didn’t speak or make any effort to move. They just lay there, being each other’s comfort for as long as they could.

After that, Even stopped trying to get Isak to leave. He still spent most of his day asleep, still barely got out of bed, but he let Isak and Mikael take care of him. When his thoughts grew darker again, he would talk to Isak about it, sharing the contents of his mind in whispers, passing just between them, as they lay close, face-to-face. Isak would listen carefully, taking on some of Even’s pain to lighten his load.

Over the next couple of weeks, Even started to slowly improve. His spirits grew brighter, even as the days grew steadily darker and shorter, December seeming to fly by.

Isak took one afternoon to go over to his house and at least let his parents see that he was still alive. When they saw him, they both embraced him at the door, and Isak felt a twinge of guilt that they had been more worried than he had perhaps foolishly expected them to be. He assured them that he was fine, and agreed to stay for lunch, and he came up with a bit of a more convincing excuse to be gone before he left, leaving them with lighter minds and himself with one less thing to worry about.

Even was beginning to gain energy, so that he spent more time awake, sitting up in bed, occasionally getting up and making his own food while Isak and Mikael were both out. One day, when Isak returned from class, he opened the front door to see that Even had tidied up his little corner of the room. He was so happy that he ran over and launched himself at him, throwing his arms around his neck and knocking him over. It forced a little surprised laugh out of him, and it was the first time Isak had heard him laugh since this started. The sound was music to his ears.

As the days went by, they were getting closer and closer to Yule. Isak knew it was Even’s favorite holiday, but at this rate, it wasn’t looking very likely that he would be well enough to really celebrate it this year.

So, he spent some time thinking, scheming ways he could bring Even some small holiday cheer during these dark days. One afternoon, when he took a different path back from the university on a whim and passed by a small frozen lake, covered in giggling children, slipping and sliding all over, he had an idea.

A couple of days later, after they had finished dinner, Even was back in bed, lying on his side quietly, but not asleep. Isak was cleaning the dishes by the warm glow of candlelight, chewing his lip and wondering if this was a bad time, if he should just ditch his plan. But when he finished and turned back to Even, he stretched out a hand to call Isak to him with a small smile.

“Hi,” Isak whispered as he lay down before him.

“Hi,” Even replied.

“I have a surprise for you. But it requires putting on warm clothes and going outside. Do you think you’re up for it?”

He could see Even thinking, considering. He knew it could be a daunting prospect for him to leave the studio where he had been holed up safely for weeks, but it was evening, and hardly anyone would be out and about – it would just be the two of them.

Eventually, he nodded, and Isak grinned and jumped up. He grabbed their hats and coats and gloves and threw them down on the bed.

Once they were dressed, he darted to the corner of a room where he pulled out a burlap bag that he had stashed there the day before. Even looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but Isak merely smiled and walked past him, stopping at the door and turning back.

“You coming?”

“I guess so,” Even laughed.

“Isak, where the hell are we going?” Even asked as they walked, the freshly-fallen snow crunching beneath their boots.

“Shh, we’re almost there. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

To be honest, Isak wasn’t entirely sure it was worth it, and he was desperately hoping that Even would actually enjoy his surprise.

When they got there, Isak stopped abruptly, Even stumbling to a halt beside him.

He blinked at the black, frozen lake before them, not putting the pieces together until Isak pulled the two pairs of skates out of his bag and held one out to Even. He took the skates slowly and stared at them, turning them over in his hands.

“I…I remembered how you said you used to go ice skating on the canals in Amsterdam,” Isak hurried to explain, starting to question himself and worrying that this was a stupid idea, “and it sounded like something you really enjoyed, so I – I thought maybe you’d like—”

His words were cut off abruptly as Even slammed into him with a massive hug, knocking the air out of his lungs. Even held him to his chest, so tight it almost hurt, but Isak melted into it.

“You’re so precious,” Even said, muffled by his face being buried in Isak’s hair. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Isak made no moves to break their embrace, even as they were both getting cold from standing still for so long. He let Even hold him until he was ready to let go, and when they parted, their hands found their way together, still keeping them linked.

They sat down in the snow to put on their skates, despite the fact that they would no doubt end up with freezing wet pants. Isak had only done this a couple of times before, and not for a few years, so Even had to put his skates on for him, kneeling in front of him and attentively tying the blades to his shoes.

When they got on the ice, Isak started wobbling precariously right away, probably looking like a newborn calf, while Even skated off smoothly, making it look effortless. Seeing Isak struggle, Even turned around with a smirk and skated back, stopping in front of him and taking his hands.

“Here. I’ll help you. Just work on finding your balance; I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

Even skated backwards easily, pulling Isak along with him, letting him get his legs under him and get used to the feeling. Finally, when Even dropped one hand, and then both, Isak was able to glide along, staying upright on his own.

The sound of their skates against the ice echoed strangely off of the blanket of snow, the only sound around.

Even still wasn’t himself – normally he would have been much more jubilant, laughing and talking and teasing Isak for his tiny, ungraceful steps and flailing arms – but Isak didn’t expect him to be. The fact that he was here at all, out of the house and able to engage in an activity he enjoyed, was a big step forwards. He had a small smile on his face, and his eyes were brighter than Isak had seen them in a while, and it was the best gift Isak could have asked for.

When it was time to go, they huddled together as they hurried back, looking forward to starting a roaring fire in the fireplace and cuddling up together, warming up in bed. As soon as they stepped inside, though, Even first wrapped Isak in another hug, putting a hand on the back of his head and pushing his face into his neck.

“Thank you, Isak. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, lifting his head to smile up at Even. “Happy Yule.”

A couple of days later, when Isak got home from his classes, he found Even up, sitting at the table and playing chess with Mikael. Even greeted him with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek, and pulled Isak onto his lap to watch him play.

A few days after that, Isak noticed him wander over to where his art supplies were kept, looking at them and even picking up a couple of different brushes and paints, turning them over in his hands before placing them back down. Every new thing Even did was like a little thread of hope, bringing them one step closer out of the dark pit they had been in.

And then, a week after Yule had begun, Isak opened the door, accompanied by a flurry of snow blown in with him by the wind, and found Even painting. It took him a moment of being cold and flustered and brushing the snowflakes off of his head and shoulders before he realized what Even was doing. It was such a happy sight, seeing Even up and doing what he loved again for the first time in weeks, that Isak just stood there in the entryway at first, hat and scarf hanging from his hands.

He walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around Even’s waist and putting his chin on his shoulder. It was then that he turned his attention to what Even was actually painting. It was him – a portrait from memory, painted in broad, lively strokes across a large canvas, just his face filling up all that space. It was almost entirely in shades of gold and yellow and orange, with distinct flashes of green for the eyes. The style was different from Even’s usual work – more like the drawings he would sketch in his notebook on the fly, with looser brushstrokes, freer expression.

Isak blinked at it, immediately feeling emotion well up through his chest, coming out as tears building in his eyes. The painting was beautiful, as was everything Even made, but something about the way he had painted it was imbued with so much _love_ ; Isak could see it and instantly know that he was treasured. That, combined with the significance of Even painting for the first time since he fell ill, and painting something like _this_ of all things, something that was the sheer opposite of the dull lethargy that he had been experiencing for the past few weeks – that filled Isak with overwhelming happiness.

Even turned around in his arms, putting down his pallet and brush so he could return his embrace. He had a smear of ochre paint across his cheek, which Isak knew was probably from his habit of brushing loose strands of hair off his face with the back of his hand while he was painting. His face was open and vulnerable and filled with as much emotion as Isak was feeling.

Nothing had to be said out loud; they communicated silently and drifted closer, pulled together until their lips met. The kiss intensified quickly, becoming deeper than any kiss they had shared in a while, and Even’s hands came up to grip Isak’s face, fingers digging into his jaw.

It wasn’t clear who started moving first, but together they shuffled back towards the bed, never letting their lips part. Only when they tumbled into bed did they separate so that Even could kiss down his neck, making sure to get all the sensitive spots, like he was proving he hadn’t forgotten. He pulled back, panting, breath tickling Isak’s cheeks. His eyes were already blown and glossy, probably mirroring Isak’s. He yearned to be closer, to feel the intimacy that had been on the back burner for so long, and it looked like Even felt exactly the same.

Before he knew it, Even had flipped them over so Isak was on top of him, giving him a moment to shift and get his balance before he was pulling him down by the back of the neck to kiss him again.

They continued, their kisses getting more and more heated, their hips starting to grind against each other without their conscious control.

“Isak,” Even mumbled into his mouth, so muffled that he almost didn’t hear it. When he pulled back, Even looked almost…shy, or insecure, like he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. It was a look that Isak had hardly ever seen on Even, so it made him pay attention immediately.

“Could – could we…do it the other way around this time? I just want to feel you,” he whispered.

Isak almost passed out right there from the blood that rushed south – instead, he grabbed Even’s face and kissed him, hard, moaning into his mouth.

He understood what Even was feeling; he didn’t even need to explain. The vulnerability, the need to be close, to be comforted and reassured, was clear in his eyes. And Isak would gladly do whatever it was that would give him that.

“Of course,” he panted when he pulled back, nodding vigorously. “Of course, baby.”

So far in their relationship, they had never done it this way – they had always planned to, at some point, it was just that things were so incredibly good the way they were that it was hard to convince themselves to change anything. But now, it felt right.

Isak found himself surprisingly confident, lacking in nerves or self-doubt as he pulled his clothes off, then helping Even with his own. He trusted his instincts and the strength of his feelings to guide him, to make Even feel loved like he needed to, like he deserved to, always.

There was no need to draw things out; they both wanted it enough that Isak went straight for the oil in Even’s bedside table. When his first finger entered him, he watched Even’s face the whole time, taking in every little expression flashing past, every movement. He loved being able to see that, the way Even’s face shifted in pleasure, when he wasn’t so distracted himself that he couldn’t fully appreciate it. He fingered him carefully, quickly but thoroughly, making sure Even was comfortable like he always did for Isak.

When he finally lined himself up against Even, he paused and took a deep breath, steadying himself, and looked to Even to check that he was still completely on board.

He leaned down, kissing Even once and then leaning their foreheads together as he slowly pushed in.

Feeling Even around him was a revelation. He had to grit his teeth to keep from coming right then, made even more difficult by Even’s deep moan that rattled through his bones.

It was different, but amazing as ever. As they moved together, not too fast, not too slow, it felt like they were affirming something, like whatever invisible strand that bonded them together was solidifying once again.

It felt like coming home.

It wasn’t long after that that Even seemed to finally turn one last corner and came out the other side back to his usual self. Isak was happier about it than he could possibly describe, and things between them felt like bliss, even as they just settled into a regular, everyday routine. Isak’s classes got busier, and Even picked up some of the work that he had neglected while he’d been unwell, and despite the fact that life got almost boring, filled with responsibilities and chores, spending his boring, regular days with Even as a part of them felt almost like a fairytale. The real kind of fairytale, not with any magic or dragons or riding off into the sunset, just the precious, brilliant experience of living a content life with the one you love.

Now that Jonas knew, Isak felt like his life with Even could get that much closer to his life outside of him, and it made everything feel so much better, so much more right. They could spend time all together – Even and Isak and Jonas and Mikael, and it made it almost feel like there was nothing different about Isak and Even’s relationship, like they could be themselves out in the open and with the people they cared about. Of course, that wasn’t the case all the time, but overall, life was good.

Isak had fallen in love with Even hard and fast, and their relationship, while amazing, had spent most of its short life so far fairly tumultuous, like a ship tossed about on a stormy sea that was just now finally beginning to calm. It felt like life was now rocking them gently, soothingly, and giving them time to get their bearings as they learned what their relationship could be, now that the waters had stilled.

They developed a schedule, where Isak would go to Even’s studio after his classes, and then later they would go back to Isak’s house together. Sometimes, Even would come in with him, greeting his parents graciously, no doubt having won both of them over with his charm and manners so that neither of them minded his frequent visits at all. Other times, he would fall back to old habits and climb in Isak’s window, huffing and puffing dramatically and then throwing himself down on the mattress, nearly bouncing Isak off of it as he laughed. They switched off between sleeping there and both sneaking back out once night had fallen and going back to Even’s studio to sleep, but they always made sure they were together.

Every night, Isak fell asleep to the sound of Even’s heartbeat, his head resting on his chest, and he had no desire to ever sleep any other way.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The morning sun was clear and bright, cutting sharply across the horizon where it rose, sending a glittering golden pathway across the water that Isak was in no position to admire. 
> 
> He glared at the ship approaching, growing larger as it closed in on the dock, as if he could stop its course, turn it around or sink it where he was, he didn’t care. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, only one chapter left.... Hope you enjoy this one <3

“…Oh. Wow.”

“I know. So…what do you think? What should I do?”

Isak chewed on his lip, brow furrowed deeply. His heart was beating hard, and his chest felt tight with what Even had told him. But he didn’t know how to respond.

“I…I don’t know whether tell you what I think I should tell you or what I actually want to tell you.”

Even ran a hand up and down his bare arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, bringing Isak’s attention to the slight chill in the air of Even’s studio, making him search for his shirt, lying crumpled and tossed aside somewhere in Even’s sheets.

“Tell me what you feel. Please.”

Isak sighed, deeply conflicted. “It’s a long time.”

“I know,” Even said, patiently.

“I – I mean obviously I don’t want you to go. My heart doesn’t want you to go. But…” he took a deep breath, “I think you should.” He looked up to Even when he said it, seeing his own pain reflected in Even’s eyes.

“I don’t have to,” Even whispered.

Isak swallowed the lump in his throat, thinking hard, trying to be honest with himself. Florence was far, very far away. And two months was a very long time.

“I know you don’t. I know you would stay if I asked you to. But…it’s such a fantastic opportunity. I don’t want you to pass that up.”

It was an amazing chance that Even had been offered – to travel to Florence, the heart of artistic innovation, a hotbed of creativity, the home of so many of the artists that Even admired, a place that Isak had often heard him talk about dreamily. He had the chance to be there, to meet those people and learn from them, and Isak knew it would be a huge advancement for his career.

Even nodded slowly, looking down to his hands in his lap.

“Think about it,” Isak suggested, trying to sound like the idea of Even being gone for that long wasn’t tearing his heart apart. “You don’t have to decide right now.”

Even as he spoke, Even still looking pained and conflicted, Isak knew that he would ultimately decide to go. Even had a passion, and this was a chance to follow it, and unless Isak stopped him, he would.

He hated the idea of their newly steady, familiar, happy life together being shaken up once again, couldn’t imagine living without Even for such a long time, but an even worse prospect was for Even to miss out on something like this. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that Even wanted to go, despite how much it would hurt for both of them.

So he would go. They had an entire life together laid out in front of them. They could stand to spend this time apart, even if it didn’t feel like it.

“Okay,” Even sighed, and he reached his hand out until Isak shuffled around on the bed and they settled back, Isak tucked under his arm.

A few days later, as Isak was studying at his makeshift desk in the corner of Even’s studio in the slanted light of the mid-afternoon, Even walked in, having stepped out for a walk a couple of hours earlier. He did that, sometimes, just to think, get his head to clear, and Isak knew by now not to worry if he wasn’t home for a while. This time, when he set down his quill after finishing his sentence and turned towards him, he knew what was coming.

Even stood, hands in his pockets, looking down, staring intently into nothing. His hair was swept out of place by the wind outside, and Isak’s hand twitched to reach out and fix it, even though he was too far away.

“I’ve decided I want to go,” Even said, eyes flicking up to Isak’s as soon as he’d said it, searching his expression.

Isak nodded slowly. He had known that he would. Still, it was different hearing it for certain.

“Okay,” Isak managed, forcing a smile – one he really did mean. “I’m happy for you.”

And he was.

They spent every moment that they could together in the next couple of weeks, even more than they usually did, clinging onto each other like barnacles enough to make even Mikael roll his eyes at them fondly.

It wasn’t nearly enough time.

The offer had come about abruptly, and left Even only a couple of weeks to prepare before the trip. Isak helped him pack, insisting that they start making a list of the things he would need while he was away and gathering them more than just a couple of days before he was due to leave. He distracted himself from the pain he knew was rapidly approaching by putting his energy into preparing on Even’s behalf, focusing on the practical side of things because he knew he would get overwhelmed as soon as he let the reality of the situation hit him.

Even went along with it, humoring Isak’s meticulous planning and organization, even though Isak knew he would just as soon throw a few necessities in a bag the night before and be done with it. He also made sure, however, that the two of them had plenty of moments together, quality time with just them where they could enjoy what time they had, take this fill of each other and store up happy memories to carry them through the long drought. During these moments, they wouldn’t talk about it – the fact that Even was leaving, or how they felt about it – they were reserved for happy things only, for reaffirming their love over and over.

They didn’t let themselves go there, not when every instant they had was precious, when they needed to fill their time with as much happiness as they could.

The days were marching onwards, mercilessly, the sun always rising and falling with no regard for them, while they did their best to freeze it in the sky, just for a while longer.

Swiftly, the time came when they could no longer ignore it. The day of Even’s departure was looming, nearly upon them, and despite their brave faces and optimistic talk, when it came to facing it head on, they both broke down.

It was the day before Even would have to leave, when their time together had ticked down to hours, and they sat facing each other on Even’s bed. The tears came, and once they had started, like a dam was broken, they couldn’t be stopped.

“Tell me not to go,” Even pleaded. His eyes were filled with tears and it made it almost impossible for Isak not to do as he asked. “I’ll stay if you ask me to,” he promised, gripping Isak’s hands tightly, turning them white.

Both of them knew he wouldn’t – they had already decided, the time for turning back had passed – but Isak wasn’t sure Even had any idea how hard it was not to, how it was tearing at his chest, the need to change his mind and throw himself into Even’s arms and beg him not to go. Every fiber of his being wanted to stop Even from leaving. But he couldn’t let himself do that. He had to be strong.

So he smiled sadly, reaching out to wipe the tears off of Even’s cheeks, as if his own weren’t just as damp.

“You know I’m not going to do that,” he said gently. “This is good. It’ll be an amazing experience. And I’ll be waiting right here when you get back.”

It was hard to say it without taking it back, without throwing everything out the window and telling Even he should never leave this bed, much less the country, but he managed.

Even nodded, looking down to their joined hands, watching as he manipulated Isak’s fingers, like he was examining them. In the silence, it occurred to Isak that this was the right time to do what he had been planning to. He felt nervous, almost shy, even though logically he knew he had no reason to be. But once he worked up the nerve and took a deep breath, he gently pulled his hands out of Even’s grasp so that he could reach over into the drawer of Even’s bedside table. The drawer was cluttered with random objects that Even stuffed in there, so he had known Even wouldn’t notice something new if he hid it in there. After digging around for a moment, his fingertips felt the soft velvet, and he came back out with a small blue bag.

Even was watching him closely, curiously, as his nervous fingers fumbled to untie it and open it up.

“I have something for you,” he explained. “I – I thought, maybe…it would just be nice for you to have something to keep with you, to remind you of me – of us, while you’re gone.”

When he pulled out the small, silver necklace, Even’s eyes widened.

“You – you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, of course,” he hurried, “I just – “

“Isak,” Even stopped him, taking a hold of his wrist. “I do want to. Of course I want to.”

Unclasping the necklace, Isak slipped it around Even’s neck, letting it lie against his chest, visible above the open neck of his shirt. It was a small pendent, in the design of a _fede_ ring, the metal carved into the shape of two hands clasped together. He had considered getting the actual ring, but had been scared off at the last moment – it felt like too much, like he was sending a message he was afraid to.

Even turned it over in his fingers, feeling its weight, caressing its smooth edges.

“I love it,” he said, voice shaky with emotion. “Thank you.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Isak launched himself forward, throwing his arms around Even’s neck and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Even sought out his lips blindly and they found each other, joining together passionately. Struck by an overwhelming need to be close to him, Isak clawed at Even’s shirt clumsily until he got the idea and pulled back just for a moment to pull it over his head. The pendant jangled, bouncing against his chest, and it drew his attention.

“I like that you’ll be wearing this,” Isak mused, reaching out to touch it, “so that everyone there in Italy will know that you’re taken by someone.”

Even wrapped his hand around Isak’s, closing them both around the necklace.

“I like it too,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss him again, his palm pressing down between his shoulder blades, like he was holding him together between his hands. “Promise me you won’t let anyone else come in and steal you while I’m gone?” He asked, tone joking, but there was a layer of seriousness, of worry, beneath it.

“Of course,” Isak assured. “I’m yours.”

“Yes,” Even breathed, “you are.”

Isak barely had time to take in a breath before Even was bowling him over, pressing him into the mattress with sudden fervor. Their mouths clashed, likely to bruise their lips, leaving them reddened, but Isak just wound his arms around Even’s neck, pulled him closer, as if there was any chance of him backing away.

It wasn’t long before Isak’s hands were scrambling over Even’s back, tugging at his shirt, up and over his head, a cool rush of air between their lips for just a moment before they came hotly together again.

Isak’s heart was aching, but the blood it was pumping through his veins was on fire, lit by the need to be joined with Even, to get as close as physically possible, make absolutely sure their souls had made their mark on each other, had enough fill to last them for the coming months. From the desperation in Even’s movements, the clinging of his hands, he knew he was feeling the same.

Despite the hurried, needy pace of their kisses so far, once Even had Isak undressed, he forced them to slow down, to savor each touch, each shared breath.

Isak loved the way the world melted away around him when he was with Even. There was no room left in his mind to focus on anything but the way Even was making him feel, his body alight and his heart full, every beat lovingly tapping out Even’s name.

He allowed his head to fall back onto the mattress, breathing heavily and fluttering his eyes closed, accepting every kiss Even gave him as he trailed down, working along his neck and the dip of his collarbone, letting the feeling soak in, trying to memorize it.

“I love you,” he felt himself whisper, the words merely slipping through his lips uninvited.

Even hummed, vibrating against Isak’s skin from where he was sucking a mark onto the column of his throat. Isak didn’t care that it was in a place where people would be able to see, almost wanted them to. Wanted people to know that he belonged to someone, even when that someone was far away.

“I love you,” Even echoed when he pulled off briefly, punctuating the statement with a sharp bite to his shoulder.

Even was thorough, torturously so, kissing and sucking and biting, soothing the sting with soft sweeps of his tongue, leaving a mark in each place he stopped as he worked his way down Isak’s body. Isak knew was he was doing, marking him up everywhere he could, laying his claim. It was incredibly possessive, and he loved it.

“Nobody is going to touch you while I’m gone,” Even growled, reaching Isak’s hip, kissing the dip next to his hipbone. “Or ever, for that matter,” he added.

The words made a raspy whine force its way out of Isak’s throat and his hips twist, needing Even to speed up.

Even’s hands spread his legs easily, Isak having gone limp and pliant already, and nipped at the soft skin on his inner thigh. Isak relished the feeling. He wanted the bruises there, all over him, left there when Even was gone. He hoped they would remain on his skin for a long time, only fading slowly.

“Even,” he spoke, opening his eyes and lifting his head to meet his blue gaze. “Make love to me,” he pleaded, almost pouting at the continued slow teasing touches.

Even bit his puffy lower lip, then nodded quickly, crawling back up on the bed to find the oil in the bedside table, necklace swinging towards Isak as he reached over him. The thin, cool chain felt good under Isak’s fingertips as he ran his hands up Even’s back, along his neck, winding them into his hair. He liked knowing that he would leave this mark on Even, in return for the ones Even was leaving on him.

It felt important, to be claimed one last time, to communicate the absolute surety of their feelings for one another, make it clear that their bond was etched in stone, carved into the places their bodies touched.

He arched his back as Even buried his fingers inside of him, searching for that spot that would make him gasp and moan. While he worked him open, stroking his fingers inside him and pulling sharp noises through his lips, Even kissed his neck, whispering his devotions into his skin like prayers.

“I’ll dream of you every night,” Even promised. “I’ll wake every morning with your name on my tongue.”

“Please,” Isak whimpered, grabbing at Even’s shoulders to drawn him closer and wrapping his legs around his waist, heels pressing him towards him, “I need to be close to you. I need—”

“Shhh, I know, I’ve got you.”

Isak closed his eyes at the stretch when Even first entered him, loving how it felt, wishing he could feel Even even deeper, filling every empty space inside of him. He couldn’t keep them closed for long, though – he needed to see him, needed the intimacy of eye contact when they were as close as they could be in every other way.

Their eyes never left each other as Even’s thrusts rocked into him rhythmically, like their gazes were caught on each other, unable to be untangled. Everything was intensified when he was looking straight into Even’s eyes, like he could see exactly what he was thinking, feel what he was feeling. When he blinked, he felt tears slip down his cheeks, and he realized that Even was crying too.

Even was doing everything he could to pull Isak apart, fully unravel him, so it wasn’t a surprise when his thighs began shaking, his breaths coming quickly. They came together, Even spilling into him as they moaned softly into each other’s mouths. Even nuzzled into his cheek before pulling out gingerly and collapsing on top of him, his weight heavy and comforting.

They rolled over, Isak curling into Even’s side and resting his head in a comfortable spot on his shoulder. There was no chance of either of them moving anytime soon, feeling too raw and emotional to leave each other’s arms. Clinging to each other tightly, tight enough to feel each breath, they lay there in silence, stretching the moment out for as long as they could before they were forced to face the next morning. Neither of them slept that night, instead spending every moment awake in each other’s presence until they couldn’t any longer. Lying on their sides, Isak traced each line of Even’s face over and over with his fingers while Even watched.

There were a hundred times that night that Isak almost asked him to stay. But each time he almost caved in, he would take a deep breath and remind himself of the future, the long term. He would imagine all the years and decades ahead that he and Even would spend side by side, and he knew in his heart that this would be no more than a blip in the grand scheme of things, even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

He didn’t have to ask to know that Even had come close to changing his mind just as many times.

The morning sun was clear and bright, cutting sharply across the horizon where it rose, sending a glittering golden pathway across the water that Isak was in no position to admire.

He glared at the ship approaching, growing larger as it closed in on the dock, as if he could stop its course, turn it around or sink it where he was, he didn’t care.

Even was crouched on the ground, rustling through his bags, checking one last time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything crucial. When he was finished, he stood with a sigh, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.

“Well, nothing left to do but hope that’s everything,” he said, wringing his hands and shifting on his feet.

Isak could tell he was nervous, and he didn’t blame him – there was a long journey ahead of him to a strange land, that would no doubt be filled with surprises and challenges. He could only hope that most of the nervousness would turn to excitement once the trip began.

Isak was quiet, too somber to chat or pretend that this was just any other day. He knew Even understood.

They had said their private goodbyes in the entrance to Even’s studio, one last moment behind closed doors where they could embrace and kiss and cry, whispering all their promises to each other and struggling to let go. Now, there could be none of that, surrounded by people as they were. Isak saw the others, couples parting ways, sending off their loved ones, and it sent a familiar pang of envy through him at how they were able to love in public, but it was much less strong than they used to be.

Finally, the short minutes they had left were spent, ticking down to seconds until there were no more. The gangway was lowered and the shipmen took Even’s bags to load them with the rest of the cargo, and they were left lingering, hanging onto the moment when they both knew there was nothing left to delay it, no more steps in between now and Even turning away and stepping onto the ship.

Isak tried to say goodbye, but found his throat too tight to speak, so he simply mouthed the word.

It was their last glance, and their eyes held on to each other. There were people all around, but Isak didn’t care; he made no effort to disguise the love on his face, needed that to be the last image Even had of him that he would hold in his mind, and vice versa.

He stood there, stock still, watching until the last pinprick sight of the ship disappeared over the horizon, at which point he wiped a tear off his cheek and turned, walking straight back home, staring at the ground and dragging his feet.

The first few days that Even was gone were miserable – he dealt with his heartache by shutting himself in his bedroom, wallowing in his sorrow and spending all his time thinking about how much he missed him.

Gradually, though, once the initial pain of separation faded, he found himself starting to get used to it, settling into his new routine. Missing Even became more of a constant hum in the background, something that sometimes rose back up in his chest and overwhelmed him, but that overall he had learned to accept, to adjust to, knowing that it wouldn’t be permanent.

He often imagined what Even was doing, what adventures he was having there under the warm Italian sun. Even would have so many stories for him when he got back, and he couldn’t wait to hear them.

And if he counted down the days on a folded piece of parchment kept under his pillow, no one had to know.

During the time that Even was gone, he had to find some way to occupy himself, especially to take his mind off of it. He probably annoyed the hell out of Eva and Jonas, constantly bothering them to hang out, trying to get them to entertain him. Eva was confused, constantly remarking on his out-of-character sociability lately, his need to be doing some sort of activity with his friends.

On the other hand, Jonas was more of an important support to him than he had been since the worst points of his mother’s illness as a teenager. Since he knew about Even, he was someone Isak could talk to, who would let him cry on his shoulder when he needed to and who would understand why Isak needed a distraction and indulge him, even if he pretended to be exasperated at times.

Another consequence of Even’s absence was that Isak threw himself into his schoolwork. He had been letting it slip a little bit in the past couple of months, his priorities shifting away once he met Even, but now he was able to catch back up. His professors were pleased, and it made him feel better as well – a good distraction, but also something he truly enjoyed, something he was passionate about that was now filling his days. At the rate he was going now, it wouldn’t be too long before he was able to graduate from the University, and the prospect was exciting.

A couple of times, Isak received letters from Even, filled with words of love and gushing tales of Florence, how beautiful it was, the amazing artists he was getting to meet and work with, how much he was learning from it all. The letters were infrequent, because it took so long to get from place to place, but the ones he got, he cherished, reading them over and over, getting up in the middle of the night to light a candle just to read them again, holding the parchment in his hands and imaging he could touch Even’s fingertips through it.

He was doing well, but still, there were times when he felt the lack of Even more sharply, when he longed for him so deeply that it hurt, felt like his chest would cave in. When those times happened, he let himself feel it, allowed himself to weep and fall asleep clutching one of Even’s left-behind shirts tightly in his hands.

It was spring when Even returned.

The frost had melted, winter lifting, releasing its grip over the land, and the air no longer stung and numbed. Whispers of warmth were carried on the wind, promising spring would come into full force soon. Isak’s hair had grown, curling even further – he hadn’t been able to be bothered to get a haircut. He hoped Even would like it.

Before Even had left, he had told him the date his ship was set to return, and they had formed a plan for his arrival. Of course, things could always change – ships got delayed, plans shifted – but as of the last letter Isak had received from him, Even was still on schedule.

They had decided it would be unwise for Isak to wait for him on the dock, as badly as he wanted to see him the very moment he arrived. It seemed likely that it would be impossible for them to control themselves when they first laid eyes on each other, so it wasn’t safe to do it out in public. Instead, Isak made his way to Even’s studio early that morning – so early, in fact, that he woke a disgruntled Mikael, who rolled over in bed, squinting at the intruder and just rolling his eyes when he saw that it was Isak. He wanted to make absolutely sure that he was there when Even got there, and since there was no way to know exactly when that would be, he had to camp out there all day.

Before long, Mikael had packed his things and cleared out for the day, telling Isak that he didn’t want to be anywhere near the “hurricane of grossness” that would be their reunion, though his smile and wink betrayed that he was really happy for them.

All Isak could seem to do, for his part, was pace around the room over and over, honestly surprised that his feet hadn’t started wearing dents into the wooden floors. His heart was beating in double time in his chest, and the anxiety of having no idea when something so important would happen, having no way of knowing if it would even be today, or if Even was delayed, or something had gone wrong – it was nearly unbearable.

He was so tightly wound that when his ears detected the first faint click of the turning of the doorknob he nearly leapt in the air, spinning around to face the doorway just as the door swung open. It seemed like slow motion, probably because Isak’s mind was taking in each and every detail so hungrily, so intently, as Even stepped inside, his gait heavy and clumsy from the bags slung over his shoulders and hoisted in his arms. As soon as his eyes found Isak, though, he dropped them immediately – a good thing, because Isak was running towards him and jumping straight into his arms without hesitation. He toppled Even over, both of them falling into a pile of limbs on the floor, but neither of them let go, holding each other too tightly. Kisses fluttered across Isak’s face, ones he scrambled to return.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled into Even’s skin, his cheeks already wet with tears.

“I missed you too, baby. I missed you too.”

When their joints started aching from their awkward position tangled on the floor, they finally got up, stumbling over, still in each other’s arms, to collapse down on the bed, all of Even’s belongings forgotten in a pile in the entryway.

For a while, all Isak could do was drink him in, running his hands all over his face, feeling his solid form under his palms, real and unwavering, so different from the unsatisfying phantom representations in his dreams over the past two months. His eyes flitted over Even’s face, taking in each feature, every little detail, trying to catalogue any tiny changes, reacquaint himself with the real thing when all he had had to go on for so long had been imperfect memories.

For his part, Even seemed to be doing exactly the same, just staring at him, touching his face, shoulders, arms while they lay next to him, running his fingers through his hair. Both of them had tears occasionally slipping from their eyes, and they would brush them off of each other’s cheeks.

After a while, once they had basked in each other enough, Even reached out and pulled Isak in, tucking him into his side. Isak shuffled over until he could rest his head on Even’s chest, wrapping his arms around his torso and getting as close as he could. They were still and quiet for a long time, aside from whispered ‘I love you’s, traded back and forth intermittently, like they couldn’t stand to go too long without saying it. 

Eventually, when the sun was lower in the sky and the birds had quieted their singing, their emotions had calmed enough that they could move past the stage of clinging desperately to one another and start talking, catching up on the time that they had missed.

“Florence was incredible, Isak,” Even said, the excitement clear in his voice when he told him about the trip. “Seriously, you wouldn’t believe it. It’s so beautiful, like something out of a fairytale, and there was so much art, creativity everywhere, practically growing out of the sidewalks – and the people I got to meet and work with, they were all amazing, so talented…”

Isak listened attentively, smile growing on his face until it hurt as Even described all the things he had done and seen, encouraging him to give more detail, to paint him a picture with words of the foreign land and the colorful characters in it. From the sound of it, he’d had an amazing time, and Isak was genuinely glad to hear about it, despite how much they had missed each other. Listening to Even gush about his experiences so effusively made his heart swell with warmth as he smiled and blinked up at him from his position on his chest. He was surprised to find that he didn’t feel insecure, or jealous; he wasn’t questioning whether or not Even had been faithful while he was away, or if he found anything there that would draw him away from him – Isak knew these things weren’t the case.

“It sounds wonderful,” Isak said, turning to kiss his chest. “You’ll have to take me there someday.”

“I’m sorry, all I’m doing is talking about myself,” Even apologized, even though he didn’t need to; obviously one of them had quite a few more interesting stories to tell, and Isak was happy to listen.

“What was it like here while I was gone?” He asked, shuffling himself onto his side to look at him more directly.

“Nowhere near as exciting as Florence,” Isak scoffed. “It was pretty quiet. I worked a lot, I’m making a lot of progress on my studies, without you here distracting me at every turn,” he teased, pretending to glare, but ending with a wink. “I think I’ll probably be able to graduate this summer.”

“So smart,” Even praised, smiling proudly, “my genius.” Reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Isak’s ear, stroking the soft, warm skin there idly, his tone turned more serious.

“How have your parents been?” He asked.

“They’ve been fine,” Isak shrugged. “Mamma had a couple of weeks where she was a little up and down, but nothing very severe. Pappa came to one of my presentations of my research, and he actually found it really interesting.” Isak couldn’t help but smile at the memory, the bit of approval more gratifying than he cared to admit.

“He should have,” Even hummed, “anything is fascinating when you’re explaining it.”

Isak rolled his eyes even as his cheeks heated, about to groan at Even’s cheesiness when he heard a noticeable rumble from Even’s stomach.

“Food?” He asked with a chuckle, and Even nodded vigorously.

“I’m starving. I think I sort of forgot about it when I walked in the door and saw you, but yes, please, food.”

They ate on the floor, food strewn around them just so that they could be knee-to-knee while they did, not willing to sit on opposite sides of a table, so far away from each other. Isak couldn’t stop looking at Even, sometimes missing his mouth as he tried to eat blindly, letting Even laugh at him but not taking his gaze off of his face. Both of them had a tendency to burst into spontaneous giggles, giddy at the feeling of being together again. They would grab each other’s hands, trying to eat with just one until it inevitably resulted in someone dropping something or spilling on themselves.

It was during a long stretch of silence, when their stomachs were full and their hearts sated and calm, beating contentedly together, that Even spoke up again. They were back in their position on the bed, Isak tucked under Even’s arm, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as Even ran his fingers through his hair.

“One of the most interesting parts of my trip was getting exposed to the culture there, how it’s different from our own,” he started, his voice revealing that this was more than just an idle thought. “Especially…well, remember how I told you that there are places where people like us can live their lives without anyone bothering them? Florence is like that. It’s filled to the brim with artists and brilliant, innovative minds, and people are free to be who they want to be among their circle of friends and colleagues.”

Isak sat up, turning to sit cross-legged in front of Even to properly listen to what he had to say. Even’s eyes were shining bright and emotional as he continued.

“I even met couples like us – ones who lived together and had been together for years. It’s not that unheard of there; they don’t care what people do in private, everyone is just so…free.”

At some point, their hands had made their way together, holding on tightly as Isak listened and processed what Even was saying.

“Are…are you saying…that we should go there together? Like…like to live there?”

Even shrugged. “Maybe? Someday?”

“What do you think?” he asked after a pause.

Isak wasn’t sure. He tried to imagine picking up his life and moving to a foreign country that he knew so little about, where he didn’t understand the customs, wasn’t fluent in the language, where Even was the only person he knew, the only thing anchoring him there. Just the thought of leaving this place that he had come to call home, of leaving Jonas and Eva, sent a longing through his heart. But then again, this place wasn’t his home to begin with; he’d done this before, learned to love a new place, to adjust to its idiosyncrasies and learn its daily rhythms.

And from Even’s descriptions, the colorful pictures he had painted with words swirling in Isak’s head, he had to admit that Florence sounded like some kind of wonderland – he knew it was a hotbed of scientific research and discovery, as well as art. It would be hard to think of a place that would be a better fit for the both of them in that way.

The most tempting thing, of course, was the idea of actually being able to have what he had been craving – a real life with Even, a way for them to be together in the long term, where they wouldn’t be constantly fighting against the world around them. It had torn at his heart for so long, the worry that they would never be able to have that – but maybe it didn’t have to be that way.

Whatever his hesitations and inhibitions were about this, it was telling that it took only a moment before the only thing out of his mouth was: “I don’t ever want to be apart from you for so long again.”

Even nodded, understanding what he meant. “Neither do I.”

“…Should we do it?” Isak whispered. As they stared at each other, something passed between them, and a giddy feeling started to bubble up on Isak’s face, a grin slowly sneaking onto his face.

“I don’t know,” Even laughed, but he was smiling just as widely.

They didn’t say it aloud, but it felt like a plan. A plan for the future – their future, together.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was almost anticlimactic – there was no grand ceremony to it, no music swelling in the background or great velvet carpet leading them to their destiny, though it felt like a pivotal moment in his life, like everything was changing right here, right in his next step."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so I can't believe this is the final chapter. It's really bittersweet to let this story go, but I'm so thankful to all of you who have come along with me and read and commented. 
> 
> I've never attempted to write something on this scale before, so I'm kind of surprised I made it here, but I'm so glad I did. If I've made just one person smile with this story, it will have been more than worth it. 
> 
> I'm just gonna leave that there before I get too sappy. Here it is.

_To love, or to have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life._

_\- Victor Hugo_

***

Life with Even was bliss.

Isak couldn’t think of a single complaint – even his grueling physics assignments weren’t too bad, because they brought with them Even sitting at the foot of his bed while he worked, alternating between encouraging him and doing his best to distract him, rewarding him with praises and kisses each time he finished a problem. Daily chores – things he had never been exposed to before, in his privileged home – he found a fun, calming bonding time when he was doing them side by side with Even. Even even made his time spent back at home bearable, the house no longer so lonely and imposing.

Sometimes, Even’s mind slipped a bit again, falling into short periods of hyperactivity or melancholy, but they were mild, and Even was careful about keeping up his behavioral habits that he knew helped him. Even no longer worried that Isak would be scared off and leave him, and Isak no longer questioned whether his relationship with Even was worth it, limited by society as it was.

They made the best of what they had, and it turned out that that was pretty damn good, because they had each other. 

Spring brought with it warmth and contentment. The flowers bloomed, and Even encouraged him to stop and smell their perfume. Isak woke every morning to the warm glow of the sun bleeding through his eyelids, but Evens face when he blinked his eyes open seemed even brighter, impossibly sweet, irresistible to reach out and kiss all over his cheeks. With the weather back to being mild, they could spend more of their time outside, lounging together in secluded fields, having picnics, and riding side by side – Even was gradually getting more comfortable on a horse, thanks to a lot of effort on Isak’s part.

He often thought that this phase of his life would, when he was looking back on it in his old age, feel like some sort of improbable fairytale, too good to have been true. After what he and Even had been through together, the challenges they faced while they were falling in love, this felt like the glorious bursting of the sun through the clouds right after a bad storm. With not much left to be fighting against, they were left to soak in the joy of being in love for the first time.

Spring was never more in full force than on May Day. The bright colors of the festival, the laughing children running all around, it all flashed past, filling Isak’s senses.

Eva’s hair was whipping in the breeze in front of him, catching his eye as the sun glinted off its reddish hue. The flowers in her hair bounced as she ran, throwing her head back and laughing, glancing back at Isak to make sure he was still following. He was – the pink ribbon taught in his hand where he held it tightly, anchoring him as he ran around the maypole with the others. Eva had convinced him to join her, even though he protested that dancing around the maypole was for girls and little children – secretly, though, he loved it, and was happy to participate.

A laugh burst out of his chest, light and airy as he wove in and out of the other people, linking elbows with them and spinning. He hadn’t done this since he was a child, but his feet knew the steps, and they carried him skipping along as the bright ribbons wove around the pole in complex patterns.

He turned his head and his eyes searched the crowd watching the ceremony, finding Even quickly where he stood next to Jonas, even as his surroundings spun and flew past him. Their eyes locked, and Even smiled widely, and nothing could have been clearer to Isak than the love in his expression.

In June, Isak told Eva.

He was nervous and afraid, worried about how she would react, that she would reject his friendship after this or worse, tell other people, go around starting rumors. Realistically, he knew she would never do the latter, even if she didn’t approve of his relationship and didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. But this time, his thoughts weren’t clouded by the pain and stress of Even’s illness; his mind was clear, and free to overthink and fear what might happen.

Still, he had decided it had reached a point where keeping such a huge part of his life from Eva was no longer sustainable. He and Even were together all the time, now, and had no desire not to be – and on top of that, their plans to move to Italy together were becoming more real and less of a dreamlike suggestion every day. Eventually, he would leave, and he wanted to be able to explain to Eva why he was going. So, if this ruined his relationship with one of his closest friends, that was the way it had to be.

That didn’t make it any less scary.

Jonas offered to be there when he told her, as did Even, but in the end he decided that this was something he needed to do on his own, just between the two of them.

He could tell she knew something was going on the moment he asked to talk to her; he was never this serious, this obviously nervous around her.

“What is it?” she asked, as soon as they got far enough from her house, strolling along the road next to each other, Isak’s hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m going to tell you, obviously,” Isak huffed, “just be patient.”

Patience was not one of Eva’s strong suits, but she must have sensed that he needed her to back off and let him come to her, so she stayed quiet until he spoke up.

“I have something to tell you, and I don’t know how you’ll feel about it, but it…it’s just the way it is, and it’s not going to change.”

Eva frowned in confusion, nodding hesitantly for him to continue.

He took a deep breath, and just said it. “I’m in a relationship with Even. We’re in love. I don’t like girls. Just him.” It all came out in one, rushed breath, and Eva blinked up at him blankly for a moment, probably trying to make out what he had said.

When the words sank in, a frown creased her forehead, and Isak tensed, holding his breath, waiting to be yelled at, left standing there in the middle of the road – but it never happened. Her expression wasn’t angry or disgusted, just confused, and her nose scrunched up a little as she thought hard.

“Huh,” she finally concluded. “That’s…surprising.”

Isak swallowed, his mouth dry, shifting on his feet. She hadn’t reacted badly, at least not yet, but he still wasn’t sure if he could relax.

“I…I didn’t really know that was a thing,” she admitted, and Isak huffed a short laugh despite himself.

“Neither did I, until I met him.”

She hummed, nodding thoughtfully. She looked back up at Isak, her eyes slightly narrowed, like she was considering him, viewing him in a new light. It wasn’t hostile, just curious, but it made Isak uncomfortable nevertheless. After a moment, something seemed to occur to her, and her demeanor shifted immediately, her eyes lighting up as she gasped.

“Oh my gosh, this means we have so much more to talk about now! You have to tell me all about Even, I’ve missed all the juicy details! Isak,” she complained, “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me all this time, this is so exciting…”

Isak was left whiplashed and blinking as she started off, looping her elbow with his and dragging him along down the road, talking a mile a minute.

He was relieved, glad that she knew now, and that he hadn’t lost his friend, but as she started right off with asking him far too personal questions that had him blushing and sputtering incredulously about how “you don’t just _ask_ people that, Eva, oh my god,” he rolled his eyes and grumbled that he was already regretting telling her.

In July, Isak’s life reached another milestone.

Over the past few months, he had doubled down on his studies, and it had finally paid off. He sat for his exams, stood before a panel of his professors and defended his research to them, answering their questions and in the end, coming out of the evaluation with his graduation papers clutched in his hands tightly enough to crumple them.

“Even!” he cried as he burst through the door, running straight towards him with his arms open, papers fluttering in one hand. Even turned and stood just in time to catch him and he leapt into his arms.

“I graduated!!”

“I knew you would, baby,” Even responded as he spun him around in the air, before putting him down and hugging him tightly, squeezing the air out of his lungs. “I’m so proud of you.”

When he pulled back, he grabbed Isak by the shoulders, holding him so he could look at him, beaming brilliantly. Isak’s cheeks were hurting from smiling, and he was beginning to blush from the clearly adoring way Even was looking at him.

“You’re amazing,” he said, leaning in to peck Isak on the lips. “You’re so smart, and hardworking, and sweet, and cute…”

Isak rolled his eyes, giggling and trying to duck out of Even’s hold as he kept showering him with sappy adjectives. Even refused to let up, and it ended with them running around the studio, Isak being chased by Even until their laughter grew too hard and made them lose their footing, falling into a heap on the floor.

“This is a good day,” Isak sighed contentedly, and Even hummed, neither one of them making a move to get up off of the hard floor.

“We have to celebrate,” Even said, getting up on his elbow. “All day long. Anything and everything you want to do.”

“Hmmm, that sounds perfect.” He paused, pursing his lips and pretending to think for a while.

“I think I would like to start with a kiss,” he concluded cheekily.

Even grinned, leaning over him as a chuckle bubbled up out of his throat. “Now that, I can easily provide.”

It was an unassuming day later that month, sweltering with summer heat as the sun shone harshly down on Copenhagen, that Isak’s life changed in another important way, one he hadn’t even been expecting.

It was a Saturday, and it had been spent as lazily as a Saturday should be, the morning slipping past without Isak and Even even leaving the bed. They woke with the sun, slowly and gradually, already wrapped in each other’s arms where they had been in sleep. Isak’s eyes fluttered open a few times only to close again, getting sweet glimpses of Even’s sleeping face, centimeters away from his own, then his eyes, open and watching him lovingly. He smiled and stretched, keeping his eyes closed for the warm glow of the sun bleeding through his eyelids, relishing its warmth on his skin where the sheets had been pushed down during the night.

It was his bed, but it felt more like theirs, now – there was even a corner of his room cluttered with brushes and paints that Even kept there to work while he was staying over. This weekend, Isak’s parents were away, and he was looking forward to the two of them being able to meander down to the kitchen once they were ready to drag themselves out of bed for a hot, filling breakfast. His stomach was already rumbling at the thought.

When Isak opened his eyes for good, squinting them against the light and scrunching up his nose, Even was still looking at him, his cheek resting on the back of his hand on the pillow, a contended smile on his face.

“What are you looking at?” Isak challenged, all while tilting his chin up for a kiss, which Even delivered. It was deep immediately, slow but thorough, tasting like sleep and home. His body was relaxed and warm, and it was buzzing where they touched, and he could tell this was going to be one of those mornings.

“You,” Even whispered when they parted, remaining close, the hand that had made its way up to Isak’s face staying there, his thumb stroking at Isak’s jaw.

Isak blushed despite himself, despite the fact that he already _knew_ Even had been looking at him, despite the fact that he knew Even loved him, thought he was beautiful, wanted him in all ways. It still gave him butterflies every time.

He pulled Even in by the nape of his neck to kiss him again, and again and again.

With a groan, Even reached down, hand skimming along Isak’s side, pausing to grip at his hip before continuing, grabbing his thigh and hiking it up, pulling Isak as he rolled onto his back so that he was draped over him. To Isak, there was almost nothing better than waking up in each other’s arms and rolling straight into morning sex, just falling into each other so easily, so naturally. It was so good in the quiet, the still, bright beginning of the day, with nothing weighing on their minds, free to melt into each other.

Even’s fingers sank into him, never faltering in his kisses as he opened him unhurriedly. Isak’s hips rocked unconsciously, grinding down against Even and back against his fingers rhythmically. It almost felt like he was still sleeping, like this was a dream; the world was so easy, slow like honey, soaked in all things pleasurable. He felt his throat hum with a quiet moan, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from Even’s skilled fingers brushing against his spot or running through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in a way that made him want to push his head into his hand to chase the feeling.

“I love you,” he sighed, for no particular reason other than just to say it, because it was thrumming through his veins at all times.

Even echoed him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling his fingers out and gently pushing Isak off of him to grab the vial of oil. Isak watched him as he knelt between his open thighs and slicked his length, taking in the way the rays of sunlight were cast across his chest.

There was no hurry, no frantic need to have each other, no desperation to be close, to soothe each other or to reaffirm their bond. There was just love, simple and wonderful, and the pleasure of being together with no interruptions.

Even pushed into him slowly, so slowly he could feel every inch opening him. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and it made him close his eyes and bite his lip, jumping a little when he suddenly felt Even’s lips ghosting against the corner of his jaw. They stayed still for a moment once Even was seated, just taking it all in, living in that singular, perfect point of time. Their eyes never left each other’s as they began to move, Even thrusting smoothly and steadily, and Isak rising to meet him.

It lit him up from the inside out, having Even move inside of him, enough to send a shiver up his spine. Even knew exactly what angle to use to take Isak apart, but he took his time, dragging against all his most sensitive places, maintaining his slow pace.

They traded sweet murmurs back and forth, speaking barely above a whisper; it felt wrong to disturb the tranquil silence of the morning, nothing but the muffled chirping of birds and the rising pitch of their breaths.

When they finished, they just lay there for a while, Even’s weight heavy but comforting on top of him, catching their breaths and sharing their warmth for just a little bit longer before they faced the day.

Even rolled off of him, and Isak stretched languidly, rubbing his eyes.

“I love waking up next to you,” he mused, staring at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face.

Even’s breath puffed against his cheek when he chuckled. “You’re just saying that because I help you procrastinate getting up.”

Isak gasped in mock indignation. “Not at all! I’m saying it because I’m _incredibly_ sweet and romantic, which you should really know by now…”

He was muffled by Even’s chest as he pulled him in with an arm around his shoulder, laughing and ruffling his hair playfully.

They meandered down to the kitchen once the grumbling of their stomachs became too insistent to ignore in favor of lazing around in bed, not bothering to get dressed other than undergarments, just throwing open the creaky kitchen windows that looked out onto the garden to let the warm air flood in.

Raiding the kitchen cabinets for whatever was left over from the last trip to the market, they tucked in to a cobbled-together breakfast, sitting on stools and eating over the large wooden preparation table used by the cook. When they were here, they rarely bothered to take their meals out to the dining room and have them there – really, to Isak, the room felt stuffy and uncomfortable, too formal and colored with memories of dinners rife with arguments or awkward parties with his parents’ friends he was forced to attend to be a pleasant place to spend a meal.

Isak looked out the window as he ate, watching as a robin flew by and landed on the windowsill, looking back and forth like she was evaluating whether their kitchen was good enough to be of any interest to her, then apparently deciding in the negative and flying away. He made a mental note to buy one of those wooden birdhouses he had seen at the market next time he was there to set up outside – he thought his mother would enjoy watching the birds while she gardened or had tea in the sitting room.

He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing in deeply and feeling the slight breeze on his face when it whispered in through the open window. It was a good morning, a quiet, perfectly ordinary morning.

“Do you have anything to do today?” he asked Even, who shook his head as he finished chewing a grape.

“No plans, no obligations,” he grinned.

“Music to my ears,” Isak replied. He took a large bite of bread, talking as he chewed unattractively, most of it probably unintelligible.

Even smiled at him softly. He reached out to brush a crumb off of the corner of Isak’s mouth, eyes crinkling with amusement, then he got up, pushing back his stool as Isak frowned at him in confusion. Taking a step forward so that he stood between Isak’s legs, Even lifted his hands to cradle his face.

He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes slightly as he regarded Isak, like he was considering something, then something seemed to shift in him, almost imperceptibly, like he’d just realized something, or made a decision he was quite sure of. His smile grew like he could barely contain it, like he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share.

Isak was about to ask what exactly he was smiling about, but something in his face stopped him from interrupting.

“Will you marry me?” Even asked.

Isak blinked, listened to the words over again in his head to make sure he was hearing them right, because he couldn’t possibly be.

“What?” He responded, dumbfounded.

“Will you marry me?” Even repeated, amusement and joy glinting in his eyes as he leaned in even closer.

“But—what do you mean, we – we can’t,” he stuttered, shaking his head at Even’s unbelievable, ridiculous proposition – he couldn’t possibly mean it, and what on earth was he doing just smiling at him like that like there was nothing at all illogical about what he was asking – but a giddy grin spread on his face nonetheless as his eyes searched Even’s face.

“Just answer the question,” he laughed, pressing their foreheads together, waiting patiently.

Isak didn’t know what Even was thinking, how he thought the two of them were going to get married when he knew they couldn’t, but he was being asked what his heart wanted, and he knew the answer.

“I – yes. Yes, of course.”

Even kissed him, squishing their lips together more than anything as they couldn’t contain their smiles, hands squeezing his cheeks.

Even refused to tell him anything about their upcoming wedding other than the date and that he would make sure Jonas and Eva were there, so he needn’t worry about that. Whenever Isak tried to press him for details, Even would just shake his head and chuckle, keeping him in the dark no matter how much Isak whined.

It was an absolutely beautiful summer day, although it would have been just as perfect if it had been raining and thundering. Isak had been bubbling over with nerves all day, but good ones. Even had slipped out not long after they had awoken that morning, giving Isak a kiss on the chin and promising to be back, backing out of the door with a wink. Isak had no questions about what he had gone to do – he knew exactly what day it was, had been counting down to it in his head ever since Even had told him the date. But now, all he could do the whole morning was wait, tense with anticipation and excitement and uncertainty at what to expect.

Isak dressed in his favorite shirt – a soft, loose linen that draped across his shoulders and let his skin breathe in the heat, tucked into his trousers and coupled with a light jacket, decorated with swirling patterns of golden thread, contrasting against the simple shirt. He didn’t expect this to be too formal of an affair – he knew they couldn’t exactly get married in the church – so he could dress like himself, not the in stiff, uncomfortable clothing of fancy events.

He was pacing by his bedroom window, turning over the ring in his pocket in his fingers, when Even reappeared to sweep him away. He grabbed his hand and grinned, already beginning to pull him towards the door.

“It’s time,” he said in an excited whisper, even though there was no one else in the house to hear them.

Isak smiled back, the butterflies in his stomach going mad, making him feel like he could float away.

When they reached the front door, Even stopped him, stepping in front of him and putting both hands on his shoulders.

“There’s a twist, though,” he said, and before Isak could ask him what he meant, he reached into his pocket and whipped out a light blue silk handkerchief, which Isak eyed dubiously.

“Uh uh, I don’t think so…” he started when he realized Even’s intention.

“Come on, it’s part of the surprise,” Even persuaded, waving the cloth around in front of his face like a feather in front of a cat.

With an eyeroll, Isak stood for Even to wrap the cloth around his head, covering his eyes and securing it gently with a knot.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” came Even’s voice at his ear, sounding a little too pleased with himself, but he kept his promise, firmly holding Isak’s hand and upper arm, leading him and making sure he didn’t trip. They had to slip the blindfold off for a moment to get down the stairs – Even hadn’t thought of that, and Isak laughed, complaining that his hair would be all messed up for his _wedding_ , of all things.

They left Isak’s house off to the right, through the garden and into what Isak guessed was the narrow path through the woods there, but soon after that, he lost track of where they must be. They had to walk slowly for Isak to navigate over the roots and rocks in the ground with Even’s instruction, and Isak made it known that he thought this was completely ridiculous, but Even would not be convinced to give up on it. He sounded so excited to be pulling off his grand surprise that Isak couldn’t find it in him to actually be annoyed.

They walked a fairly long ways, padding over the soft grass of fields once they exited the treacherous woods, winding back and forth. Finally, Even pulled him to a halt and momentarily let go of his arm. He took in what he could of his surroundings, impatiently trying to picture where they were, even when he knew his blindfold would be removed in a moment. It was warm, with a pleasant, cooling breeze. The earth under his feet was soft, probably covered with a lush blanket of grass. Birds were chirping, leaves rustling in trees above him.

“Are you ready to be my husband?” Even whispered in his ear, and the words made his heart leap. He nodded, a happy blush rising on his cheeks, and bit his lip to contain his smile. He could almost feel Even’s answering grin, and got to see it when the cloth was pulled off of his head, Even’s face coming into focus once he blinked away the sudden brightness.

Looking at him took his breath away, caught it in his throat, and he didn’t want to look away, so much that he forgot for a few seconds how anxious he’d been to see where Even had brought him. When his mind caught up to him, he tore his eyes away, glancing behind Even to see the spot where they were to be wed.

The first thing he noticed was his friends there, as Even had promised, watching them with huge smiles. Eva had flowers woven through her hair, looking beautiful, and Jonas was standing tall next to her, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes found Mikael, as well, standing across from them, and he gave a little wave. Between them stood an arch of winding vines and flowers, petals dropping in the breeze and falling like snow to the grass beneath it. It was beautiful, like something that had jumped off the pages of a storybook with gilded illustrations.

Isak gaped at the sight, frozen, as Even stepped behind him to look on, wrapping his arms around his waist and giving him a squeeze.

“What – how…how did you do all this?”

Even chuckled, tucking his face into Isak’s neck like he needed to muffle his jubilance against his skin. He let him go, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together to pull Isak towards the makeshift altar, under which stood a man Isak hadn’t seen before, but who had a bright, friendly smile and whom Even greeted familiarly.

“Isak, this is my friend Mahdi. He’s a sculptor –“

“And socialite, and notorious lady-killer, and genius –” Mahdi added.

“ – Yes,” Even laughed, “and he also happens to practice as a Pagan priest.”

He and Mahdi shared a glance, and Even seemed slightly nervous all of a sudden as he continued.

“I wasn’t completely sure how you’d feel about this, and we can change it if you want, but I learned from Mahdi a while ago about ancient marriage rites that were done back before Christianity was established here, and I thought maybe…maybe that would sort of be a way for us to do this for real, even if it isn’t…official.”

Isak just smiled and squeezed his hand, unable to come up with the words. He stepped into place on his side of the arch, Jonas and Eva looking on behind him, and simply raised his eyebrows at Even as if to say, _well, what are you waiting for?_

Even’s face lit up when he understood, and he gave a nod to Mahdi and moved into his own place. They joined both their hands and didn’t let go, couldn’t disconnect the direct line between them. Shining eyes locked together as Mahdi cleared his throat and thumbed open the heavy book in his hands.

The words he spoke were in a language neither of them could understand, but they carried a solemn weight with them nevertheless. When Mahdi paused, Even must have known that it was his turn to speak.

“Isak,” he started, and Isak felt his throat tightening before he’d even said anything. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I couldn’t possibly list all the reasons why I love you, why you’re such a unique, incredible person. But you make me stronger than I could be alone, happier than I ever thought was possible for me. And I can’t imagine anything better than spending the rest of my life at your side.”

Tears were falling freely from Isak’s eyes by the time he was finished, but it didn’t matter, because Even was crying too – and by the sounds of sniffles coming from behind him, so was everyone else. Isak didn’t have anything prepared to say, but he didn’t need to – everything he wanted to say to Even flowed straight from his heart.

“Even. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re the brightest star in the sky. I didn’t know what love meant until I fell in love with you. I’m not sure if I even believe in souls, but I know that ours are bound. Whatever happens, wherever we go, I know I’ll always be home, because I’ll be with you.”

Even Mahdi’s voice was rough when he spoke again, picking up the ritual and reading words that wove them together in a way they both knew they really already were.

A breeze came through, dislodging some more petals from the arch and landing them on their shoulders and in their hair, making them both giggle at each other, calming their happy tears.

In a pause, Mahdi shifted the book to one hand and reached the other out to cover Isak and Even’s joined ones before reading off a final passage. Isak’s cheeks hurt from smiling, stomach felt almost sick with excitement. Even though he couldn’t understand the words being said, he felt them. This was it.

“You can exchange your rings,” Mahdi said, letting go of their hands and closing his book. “In the eyes of our ancestors, you are now wed.”

Isak’s heart was racing in his chest, his fingers fumbled in his pocket to take out the thick band. It felt heavy, heavier than the gold itself was. They couldn’t wear traditional wedding rings, had to pick ones that could have just been regular men’s rings. For Even, he had chosen a simple band embedded with a strip of turquoise.

He held his breath when he slipped it on to Even’s finger, eyes fixated on how it looked, knowing that it would be there now, permanently, just like the _fede_ necklace Even always wore around his neck.

Even took his outstretched hand, stroking a thumb over the back of it to stop it from shaking, before he brought the ring up to slide over his knuckles. It was a narrower band than Even’s, and topped with a rounded opal, its iridescent flecks gleaming in the sunlight. It was beautiful.

Isak realized, as their friends cheered and Even leaned in to kiss him, that this was one of the first times he had ever felt completely certain of something. He’d never been sure what he believed in, or what he wanted in life, or what was ahead of him. But he knew right now that he would wear this ring for the rest of his life, and that Even would be beside him.

It was August, almost exactly a year since they first met each other, the day that the ship was scheduled to set sail.

Isak wasn’t sure if the feeling in his stomach was nerves or excitement, the slight shakiness in his limbs due to fear or anticipation. Realistically, it was probably a bit of both. But now, as he rushed back into Even’s studio for the fourth time that morning to find him still snoring in bed, face smushed against the pillow, he thought it was probably more good than bad.

He stopped in the middle of the room, putting his hands on his hips and huffing with exasperation, even as an affectionate smile painted his face.

“Even.”

The harsh interruption made his husband (his _husband_ – the word still made him giddy, even just thinking it) jerk awake, scrunching his face and burying it in his pillow, groaning.

“You do know what day it is, don’t you?”

At that, Even smiled, growing wider as he turned his head and peaked at Isak under his arm.

“Yes,” he said with a sly grin. “Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.”

“Technically, you could say that about any day,” Isak pointed out, rolling his eyes before giving in and bounding over to jump into the bed next to Even, bouncing on the mattress.

“I’m so excited,” he whispered as Even shifted on to his side to look at him, reaching out and smoothing his sleep-mussed hair.

“Me too. I can’t believe it,” Even murmured back, and his eyes glinted like the sun off the waves on the harbor outside.

It had all happened so quickly.

Isak had been searching for a position now that he had completed his degree, sending out letters and applications and having his old professors inquire on his behalf. Then, one day, a letter arrived. He happened to be at the table eating dinner with Even when he opened it – and it was a good thing, because he wasn’t sure what he would have done without someone to channel his excitement into. The letter offered him a position at the university in Florence – one he hadn’t even dared to hope he would get, because it would have just been too perfect, but now it was happening.

Neither of them could believe it, but they were both on the same page, instantly knowing what this offer meant. It was their golden opportunity, and they had to seize it.

“Okay, so we need to pack the rest of your clothes, get together some food for the journey – my parents are coming down at 3 to meet us, remember, so we need to have everything ready by then,” Isak ticked off their tasks on his fingers, going through his mental to-do list to see if he was forgetting anything. “Oh! And we have to clean up after ourselves in here after we have everything packed, of course, make sure we’re not leaving a mess for Mikael.”

“And we can’t forget to breathe,” Even smirked, pulling his boots on and running a hand through his hair to make it presentable enough for his standards. He stood and walked over to Isak where he was pacing in small circles, stopping in front of him and taking his face in his hands.

“Hey, relax, baby,” he murmured, planting a soft kiss on his lips, “we’ve got it under control. We should be happy today,” he reminded him.

“I am happy,” Isak pouted, tilting his chin up for another kiss. He sighed into it, wishing he could let himself get lost in Even’s arms like usual, let hours pass by just sharing kisses and nothing else. But there would be plenty of time for that in a couple weeks, when they were _living_ together, he realized, making him smile widely against Even’s lips before he broke away.

“You’re right, but also, we’ve got shit to do. Hop hop!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Even had written to one of his artist friends who he had met during his trip straight away, and he had been kind enough to help them find a place to live in Florence from afar. When he wrote to them excitedly that he’d found something, a gem of a place in the heart of the artistic community in the city, with the space and natural light for Even’s studio, and even a small garden in the back that Isak could tend to, they jumped on it immediately. Since they’d never seen it, sometimes they lay together at night whispering their imagined descriptions of it to each other. Isak felt so light he thought he might float away.

As far as Isak’s parents knew, it was a happy coincidence that Even happened to be moving to Florence for his work at the same time that Isak got his position there, and Marianne was clearly reassured that there would be someone there that Isak knew, so that he wouldn’t be completely alone in a foreign place. She was even happy that the two of them would be living together, the way young bachelors often did – before they found a girl to marry, she had implied, and Isak had to hold in his snort.

Saying goodbye to Mikael was bittersweet – he was so happy for them, and they were so excited, but it was still hard to leave.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll follow our lead and move to Italy too?” Even joked, but they all knew it was more of a hopeful suggestion.

“Maybe,” Mikael laughed, but he put a hand on Even’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’ll miss you, brother.”

Isak dreaded saying goodbye to Jonas and Eva. He had waited longer than he should have to tell them, putting it off because he didn’t want to face the fact that he was leaving them. It was the only part of this that he really wasn’t happy about. It was hard to imagine leaving the friends who had been by his side for years, who were some of the only people in the world who knew him fully and who he could trust and talk to. Sometimes it felt like he would be lost without his long talks with Jonas, his calm, thoughtful nature. He knew it wasn’t as if they would never see each other again; he and Even would make trips back to Copenhagen, and Jonas and Eva had promised to visit Florence when they could, and he was sure they would be writing to each other frequently, but nevertheless, he couldn’t pretend things weren’t going to change.

They met at the docks a while before Isak’s parents were due to arrive while Even carried some of their things out to be loaded onto the ship, gathered in a somber circle, standing there somewhat awkwardly like none of them quite knew what to say or do.

“This part sucks,” Isak finally said, looking down at his shoes, scuffing them against the ground.

Eva’s arm came around his shoulder and she rested her head against him, holding him tightly and comforting both of them. Jonas joined in shortly, wrapping them up in warmth.

There wasn’t a lot that could be said; words couldn’t do much to communicate how much they would miss each other, what they meant to each other. Whatever could be spoken already had been, over the weeks and days leading up to Isak’s departure. So now, there wasn’t much left to do but hold each other, get one more dose of that comforting familiarity of old friends, before their friendship would be changed, stretched across great distances, but never broken.

They pulled apart at the sound of Even setting down the last couple of heavy bags that he was bringing out of the studio, all three of them clearing their throats and blinking the tears out of their eyes, trying to maintain composure.

When Isak looked over and met Even’s eye, he was met by a warm smile, one that held so much more in it than anyone but Isak could interpret. He fought the natural urge to just step closer to his side, put an arm around him and lean against him or kiss his cheek. But they communicated their affection silently, attuned to each other enough now that they could, even surrounded by people.

“When do your parents get here?” Jonas asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets, the restless shuffling of his feet betraying the fact that his usual nonchalant demeanor was slipping as he had to say goodbye to his best friend.

Isak sighed, glancing south reflexively like his parents were some dreaded omen that might appear around the corner at any moment. It’s wasn’t really that he didn’t want to see them; of course he wanted the chance to say goodbye to his parents before he didn’t see them for who knew how long, he just knew they wouldn’t exactly make the process of their departure less stressful.

“Probably soon, now,” he answered with a slight grimace.

“Don’t worry,” Jonas grinned, suddenly puffing his chest up and putting on a jokingly self-important air, “I’ll charm them and put them in a great mood. Your parents love me, after all.”

Isak scoffed and rolled his eyes, though truthfully he appreciated the levity. “Yeah, don’t be too sure about that.”

“What do you mean?” Jonas said in mock indignation. “What parent wouldn’t want me as the friend of their son? I’m exceptionally polite and well-behaved, not to mention handsome…”

“Uh, sure, and remember that time you stumbled drunk onto our front steps and woke everyone in the house up banging on the door and asking if we had any sweets?”

“ – Well, come on, that was _one time_!”

They were laughing together when Even touched Isak’s shoulder, getting his attention and nodding towards where Terje and Marianne were stepping down out of their carriage, watching their feet as they stepped delicately to avoid the various puddles and piles that covered the ground in the busy port. Isak chuckled silently watching them, shaking his head to himself. It would be strange, not having them around to be exasperated with, not having his mother to cluck disapprovingly and flatten his collar, or watching his father chew absently on the end of his pipe with a deep frown as he poured over his account books at the breakfast table.

It was a strange feeling, but at the same time he knew it was natural, and he had to admit that he felt like on the whole it would be freeing, no longer having them breathing down his neck. He would be happier this way. And truthfully, they probably would be too.

He smiled as they approached, and Eva and Jonas waved, no doubt ready to do their duty as the best friends ever and distract the Valtersans enough to deflect some of their attention off of Isak and Even and give them room to breathe as they passed their final moments before embarking on this journey.

Embraces were exchanged, tears were shed – from both his mother and his father, surprisingly – and final words were said.

It was almost anticlimactic – there was no grand ceremony to it, no music swelling in the background or great velvet carpet leading them to their destiny, though it felt like a pivotal moment in his life, like everything was changing right here, right in his next step.

He slung his small personal bag over his shoulder and took a deep breath, steadying himself, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders. Then, with a glace over to Even and a nod in return, they stepped onto the gangway.

“How do you feel?” Even asked, his voice soft, barely audible over the sea breeze that whipped their hair where they stood leaning against the rail.

“I feel ready,” he answered honestly.

It was strange – during the weeks leading up to this, he had been plagued by worries that tainted his happiness – worries about living in a new, unfamiliar place, worries about his mother’s condition worsening while he was gone and couldn’t help, worries about not being able to handle Even’s future episodes on his own. But now that he was here, he felt none of that. His mind was calm.

“I know this is right,” he added, squinting out against the sun-streaked horizon. “And I’m excited for what our new life holds for us.”

Even smiled, nodding thoughtfully. “Good. I feel the same.”

Isak leaned over the rail, watching the water down below, small waves capped with white froth beating against the sturdy hull of the ship. They felt a slight lurch as the ship was freed from its moorings, and they craned their necks in wonder as all the sails were released at once, filling with wind and puffing out as they immediately began carrying the massive ship forwards, an invisible force powerful enough to bring men across the world.

They looked on as the dock shrunk into the distance, Isak’s parents and friends still visible, waving them off. When he squinted, he could tell that Jonas had his arm around Eva’s waist, and that she was leaning into his shoulder, and Isak gave a knowing smirk.

“There’s no turning back now,” Even said.

“Pfft, I could definitely swim back from here.”

“I remember your swimming skills, I’m not so sure about that.”

Behind them, the crew hauled the ropes, grunting in a strange chorus as their combined strength turned the huge sails, pointing the ship out towards the sea. The water was frothing up in a steady wake now against the hull, pushed aside as they already climbed to a fast clip.

Isak and Even turned to each other in synchrony, locking eyes. It struck them both at the same time, and the realization that this was _happening_ passed between them in only a look.

“Wow,” Isak breathed.

“Wow,” Even agreed, his eyes wide and stuck on Isak’s, shining with intensity.

When Isak looked to the harbor, just a collection of colors now behind them, he didn’t really feel like he was leaving anything. He didn’t know exactly what the future held, but he knew he had everything he needed to face it. After all, his heart and his home were right beside him. And ahead of them was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was historical fiction set in a period where it's quite obvious that people like Isak and Even had it very rough, but I wrote this the way I did is because it's important to me to believe that not all stories like theirs ended in tragedy, that it's possible to find light even in times of seemingly insurmountable darkness. That sounds incredibly cheesy and I'm rolling my eyes at myself writing it, but I really do mean it. We'll never know what happened to the countless real people in our history whose stories were never told, and maybe I'm wrong, but I'm going to stubbornly cling on to my hope regardless. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you again, I hope you're all okay during these crazy times, and remember: Alt er love <3


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